Raelynn's POV

“Well, well.” The leader of the group smirks, clutching my chin with a cruel grip that sends sharp discomfort rippling through my skin. “Look who we have here, our little runaway Luna.” His voice carries an unpleasant mix of mockery and menace, and even through the fabric of his balaclava, the acrid stench of booze saturates the air.

I quickly scan the scene. Five attackers surround me, two black cars parked haphazardly nearby—the one I had crashed into now crumpled and useless. None of these men reek of Alpha power, the way true leaders of the pack do, and, thankfully, they seem unarmed. My odds of survival? Pretty damn high.

“They told us to cut you into pieces, scatter what’s left in a ditch, and call it a day,” the second man crows, drawing obnoxious laughter from the other four. “But a tasty little thing like you? We could make way more off you than anything your witch of a mother-in-law was throwing our way.”

Despite myself, the corners of my lips twitch. Not out of humor but at the absurdity of all of it. So, Sable isn’t content with just banishing me—she hired these lowlifes to finish the job. The joke, however, lies in her choice of tools: a gaggle of drunk fools, each underestimating me on every possible front. No weapons. No brains. Just overconfidence.

“Ex-Lunas fetch a high price in underground markets these days,” another man chimes in, his voice slick with greed. “And with a face like hers? Gentlemen, we’re sitting on a goldmine. Hell, Sable would never know. And we? We’d be twice as loaded.”

The weight of their assumptions hits me hard, but it doesn’t scare me; on the contrary, it fuels the fire already burning in my veins. My wolf may be dulled by this pregnancy, but I’m still a fighter—the fiercest bitch in the pack after the Alpha. More than that, I’m a mother. No one threatens me, much less the two lives growing inside me, and walks away unscathed.

Time to wake these idiots up to their mistake.

Without hesitation, I slam my forehead into the leader’s face, sending him reeling backward. He drops to the ground like a sack of bricks, clutching his nose. The others freeze for a beat, shocked at my boldness. It gives me just enough time to yank two jagged shards of metal from my demolished car, clutching them like crude daggers. Good. A little extra incentive never hurt.

Their shock dissipates, anger replacing it as the remaining four surge toward me. Snarling and charged with adrenaline, I meet their assault head-on. What unfolds is a brutal rhythm of strikes and dodges, a deadly ballet of violence.

A swift kick to the groin neutralizes the second man while I plunge one of my makeshift blades deep into the third’s thigh. His cry of pain echoes through the night, but I don’t falter. Before he can recover, I finish him by slicing his throat. Blood sprays, but I’m already moving on, targeting the fourth.

He barely lasts. In less than half a minute, the battlefield is reduced to myself and the largest of the group—the fifth man. Unlike the rest, he’s sober enough to pose a real challenge, and he’s armed himself with a similarly sharp piece of metal. Smart, but not smart enough.

I’ve kept him for last, noting from the start that he’s the most dangerous among them. His size alone is enough to tip the odds in his favor if I let my guard down.

He charges at me suddenly, faster than I anticipated. I barely twist to the side in time. Damn it! My reflexes are slower than what I’m used to—this pregnancy and the earlier skirmish already taking their toll.

He grins as he removes his mask, revealing a rugged, unfamiliar face. His eyes gleam with vile intent. “Looks like it’s just you and me now, sweetheart,” he spits, his voice dripping with mockery. “And trust me, you’re not walking away from this.”

I bare my teeth, a growl building low in my throat. “We’ll see about that.” My voice cuts through the tension, steady despite the throbbing pain radiating from my earlier injuries.

He lunges again, faster this time. This time, I’m too slow to evade. His massive hand grabs my wrist, wrenching my arm behind my back, and I cry out as one of my weapons tumbles uselessly to the ground. Pain explodes through me as the sickening crack of bone fills the air.

“Pathetic,” he sneers, shoving me toward the edge of the road. My heart drops when I feel the cold, unyielding guardrail against my back. Horror claws its way up my chest. Behind me, there’s nothing but open sky—and the sheer drop of a cliff into the ocean below.

“No,” I whisper in a panic. I can’t let him win. I can’t die here. Not with my pups. Not like this.

With a desperate scream, I swing my remaining knife into his thigh. Blood gushes from the wound, but instead of retreating, he laughs—a deep, menacing sound that sends a chill down my spine. With his free hand, he easily disarms me, and the second blade clatters to the ground.

I’m out of options. My back is literally against a wall—or rather, the rail—and the fifty-meter drop is a cruel reminder of my dwindling chances of escape.

The man leans close, a grotesque smile twisting across his face. “Say goodbye, little—”

His words are cut short as a sudden spray of blood splatters over me. I barely register the warmth or the coppery taste in my mouth before his grip loosens, and he stumbles back with a gurgled cry.

“RAE!” A familiar voice shouts my name. Relief punches through the haze of adrenaline as strong, steady hands yank me from the brink of death.

Still trembling, I look up to meet the face of my savior. A choked sob escapes me, and without hesitation, I throw my arms around my best friend’s neck, clutching him as though letting go would shatter me completely.