Raina’s POV

The night pressed against me like a wet cloak.

I could still hear the howl in my bones, long and sharp, like a knife sliding through the dark. Fiona stirred uncomfortably in my mind, low growls rippling in my chest.

They’re close.

I gripped the wooden fence with shaking fingers, my eyes straining against the darkness beyond the torchlight. Shapes moved between the trees, their eyes red in the mirror of the blood moon. My heart thudded hard, loud enough that I swore they could hear it.

Behind me, Cyrus’s voice was a low whisper. “We can’t wait for them to come to us. We need to check the perimeter before they break through.”

I turned to look at him. His golden bow gleamed slightly under the moonlight, and his face was tight with focus. He looked like he’d been born in the shadows calm, ready to kill if he had to.

“Xander can’t fight like this,” I said, my throat dry.

“I know,” Cyrus said. His gaze flicked toward the hut where Xander rested, his tall figure barely visible through the open door. “That’s why we move now. Come on.”

I paused. I wanted to stay with Xander. Even angry, even hurt, I couldn’t stand the thought of him alone and exposed.

But Cyrus was right.

I nodded, causing my feet to move. My boots sank into the damp earth as we slipped along the fence line. The torches glowed softly, doing little to push back the night. My breath puffed in the cold air, and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

The forest beyond our fences had never felt so alive. Every creak of a branch, every crunch of leaves under some hidden foot made my wolf stir restlessly.

Cyrus walked like a ghost, his steps silent. “Stay close,” he mumbled.

I swallowed hard and nodded.

The night wrapped around us as we crept along the edge. My heart felt like it was stuck in my throat.

“Why would they come now?” I whispered, barely moving my lips.

“They’ve been watching,” he said, scanning the treeline. “Waiting for a moment when the king is weak. That moment is now.”

His words twisted in my gut.

I thought of Xander, how warm he’d felt under my hands, how his voice had broken when he asked for my trust. A wave of guilt and longing rolled over me, sharp enough to sting my eyes.

I couldn’t lose him. Not now.

Suddenly, Cyrus raised a hand, and I froze. He crouched low, and I copied him, pressing myself against the wet ground.

Rustling.

Something big moved just beyond the fence. My eyes darted toward the sound, and I saw a flash of fur. Black, streaked with mud. The hair on my arms rose.

The shadow stopped. Sniffed. Then slunk back into the darkness.

My lungs burned.

“They’re testing the defenses,” Cyrus whispered. “They’re smart.”

I bit my lip to keep from making a sound. My wolf’s ears pricked in my mind. She wanted to run, to fight, to howl—but I had no shift, no claws, no teeth to offer. Only my shaking hands and beating heart.

We followed the fence line until we reached the back edge of the camp, where the trees leaned closer, their black branches like claws against the red-lit sky.

Cyrus crouched suddenly, his fingers touching the dirt. “Look.”

I knelt beside him, squinting. My breath caught.

The dirt was disturbed, soft and lumpy. A mark. Two. Three. Fresh.

“Someone’s been here,” I whispered.

Cyrus’s jaw stiffened. He reached for one of the wooden posts in the fence and pressed on it lightly. It wobbled.

“Sabotage,” he mumbled. He pushed harder, and the post shifted in the dirt with a low creak. “They weakened the support.

If they charge, this part will collapse.”

A cold spread through my chest. “Someone from inside…”

“Yes,” he said. His voice was like a blade. “Someone opened the way for them.”

I glanced back toward the huts, my mind running. Everyone in the pack was asleep or hiding, frightened. Who could harm us like this?

“Lancelot’s reach is long,” Cyrus said, almost as if he read my thoughts. “He can find wolves desperate enough to trade loyalty for survival.”

I gripped the fence with white hands. “They want him dead. They want me dead.”

“Yes.”

I turned to him, my voice shaking. “Then why are you here? You’re his Beta. If the elders call, you obey.”

Cyrus’s bright eyes met mine. They were steady, sharp, and full of something I couldn’t quite name.

“I obey the king,” he said simply. “And right now, my king’s heart is out here in the dark, walking next to me.”

I froze. My lips parted, but no words came out.

Before I could speak, a slight metallic sound broke through the night, a chain rattling, remote but clear. Both of us snapped our heads toward the treeline.

“They’re moving in,” Cyrus said. “We need to finish checking the perimeter and get back to him. Now.”

We ran quietly along the last stretch of fence, my heart pounding faster with every step. The night pressed close, full of words I couldn’t understand, like the forest itself wanted to swallow us whole.

By the time we reached the front of the camp, my lungs were burning. Cyrus raised a hand, and we froze in the shadow of a hut.

A figure came from the trees.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Armor glinting slightly under the red moon. His movements were slow, intentional, like he wanted us to see him coming.

Cyrus stepped forward, bow raised. “Identify yourself.”

The man raised his hands slightly, though I noticed his fingers rested near the hilt of his sword. “I am Darius. Warrior of the Black Fang Dynasty. Sent by order of Elder Lancelot.”

My stomach twisted at the name.

“What do you want?” Cyrus asked, his voice flat.

“The king,” Darius said, his eyes sweeping past Cyrus to the huts beyond. “He is to return to the palace. Immediately.”

Cyrus didn’t lower his bow. “He is injured.”

“Then we will carry him.”

I stepped out from the shadows before I could stop myself. “You can’t just take him!”

Darius’s head turned toward me, and I saw his eyes widen just slightly. He knew who I was.

“The council has ordered it,” he said, his tone easing but not kind. “If the king does not return tonight… the elders will come themselves. And they will not be gentle.”

My chest tightened. I wanted to scream, to tell him they had no right, but my voice caught in my throat.

Cyrus glanced at me, then back at Darius. “We’ll speak to the king. Wait here.”

Darius didn’t move. He was like a rock, but I could feel his eyes on me even as we fled toward the hut.

Xander was sitting up when we entered, the dim lamplight throwing shadows across his sharp cheekbones. His dark eyes locked on me first, then flicked to Cyrus.

“What did you see?” he asked, his voice low, rough.

Cyrus spoke. “Tampered fences. Fresh songs. They’ve been here, watching. Someone from inside helped them.”

Xander’s jaw clenched. His fingers curled into the blanket. “And now?”

“A messenger,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Lancelot sent a warrior. He says you have to return to the house tonight… or they’ll come for you themselves.”

Silence fell heavy in the hut.

Xander’s eyes moved to the floor. His shoulders rose and fell with a slow, controlled breath. I could feel the fight inside him.

The king who wanted to command, the man who wanted to protect me, and the puppet the elders were trying to drag back by unseen chains.

“No,” he said finally.

The word was quiet, but it shook me.

Cyrus glanced at him. “If we defy the elders now” “They tried to kill me,” Xander snapped. His voice was sharp as steel, cutting through the dim room. “And they will try again. Returning to them broken and bleeding is exactly what they want.”

I stepped closer without thinking. “Then what do we do?”

His eyes met mine. They were dark, stormy, burning with something I couldn’t name. “We hold our ground,” he said.

A howl broke the night outside, closer than before.

Then another. And another.

The fence groaned.

I ran to the door just in time to see the shadows moving—dozens of them—circling the camp, red eyes shining like flames in

the blood moon.

They had come for us.

“Raina,” Xander said behind me, his voice suddenly calm and forceful.

I turned.

“Stay close,” he said. “They’re here for you.”

And then the first wolf lunged through the fence.