Chapter 6

I looked at Marcellus’s hand resting over mine, my pulse thundering like distant war drums at his unexpected binding offer.

Before I could speak, my moonstone communicator vibrated. A glowing rune from my father pulsed on the screen.

“Wintermoon Pack just breached the harbor territory.”

My breath snagged. The Wintermoon wolves had been testing our borders for moons, but striking our maritime routes?

That was an open challenge to our Crescentblood Domain.

“Is there something wrong?” Marcellus’s tone sharpened instantly, the charming façade dropping as the Alpha in him surfaced.

I slid my hand away, steadying my thoughts. “Wintermoon wolves are stirring trouble near the tidal docks.”

His jaw tensed, the air around him shifting with barely restrained power. “Sorenna’s doing. She’s grown bold since binding herself to Rageclaw.”

“How do you even know about that?”

“As I said, I make it my duty to know what happens across the northern packs.”

He flicked his fingers, signaling the tavern attendant. “We should leave. Those moon-bound shipments matter to my clan as much as yours now.”

I arched a brow. “I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

“Soon you will.” He stood and extended his hand again. “Because without you even realize, right now you need someone who understands this realm. Someone who knows how to keep Sorenna in line without igniting a full-pack war.”

Another rune buzzed onto my screen. Two of our warriors were down.

“Fine.” I took his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. “But this doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to your… romantic nonsense.”

“Let’s just see.” His eyes gleamed with wolfish confidence as we strode out of the tavern. “First, let’s remind the Wintermoon Pack what happens when they trespass on what belongs to the Crescentblood and Ashenfell.”

The weight of my enchanted blade pressed against my thigh as we hurried toward his obsidian-runed moon-carriage.

Maybe he was right — having someone who understood this life, who didn’t require a gentler version of who I truly was — might be exactly what I needed.

But love? That could wait.

For now, we had a message to deliver.

Marcellus’s shadow-forged vehicle roared down the stone pathways of New Lycan, weaving with supernatural precision. My claws nearly punched through the handle from gripping too hard.

“The southern entry will be guarded,” I said, pulling up the docks’ territorial wards on my screen. “We need another approach.”

“I know one.” Marcellus swung sharply, tires screeching like angry spirits. “Used it centuries ago when the Moon Council sniffed around my… shipments.”

“Your shipments?”

“Let’s just say the Ashenfell Alpha line has roots everywhere.” His grin flashed dangerously. “Including the docks you’re worrying about.”

We rolled into a narrow gap between two abandoned forge-houses. The salty wind carried hints of incoming storm-magic as he killed the engine. Through the iron fence, shadows shifted — Wintermoon wolves.

“Four in sight,” I murmured, checking my crescent-forged pistol. “Probably more hidden.”

“Six.” Marcellus drew his own weapon. “Two perched on the roof. Amateurs — silhouette sharp against the moonlight.”

I studied him under the dark sky. The playful Alpha Prince was gone, replaced by a lethal predator whose movements whispered war.

“You’ve done this a lot.”

“More than I care to recount.” He checked his magazine. “Stay close. We’ll slip through the maintenance burrow.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I believe you could.” His fingers brushed my arm. “But we fight stronger together, don’t we?”

The maintenance tunnel was pitch-black, reeking of rust and old ocean magic. Our footsteps echoed despite soft pads on our boots. At the far end, voices drifted through the vent — Wintermoon wolves arguing.

“They’re trying to pry the moon-locked container open,” I whispered.

“Not much longer.” Marcellus pressed to the wall and gestured. “Ladies first.”

I rolled my eyes and stepped forward anyway. The cold metal of my weapon steadied my nerves as I advanced. Whatever was inside that container, Sorenna wanted it badly enough to risk a territorial war.

I crouched behind stacked crates. Marcellus’s breath warmed the back of my neck as he leaned close. The container strained under the wolves’ attempts to open it.

“We need some distraction,” I murmured.

Marcellus’s hand glided briefly over my waist as he reached into his jacket. “Already ahead of you.” He held up a tiny rune-device. “I’ll throw to your count to three.”

He slipped past me in the shadows, threw the device, and three heartbeats later — a blinding flare and thunderous crack shattered the night.

Shouts erupted. In the chaos, Marcellus caught my hand, pulling me toward the container. His touch sent sparks through me, but I forced myself to stay focused.

“Stood in front of me,” I said, slipping free to examine the lock. Still intact.

Marcellus stood behind me, back pressed to mine, a solid, reassuring presence. I opened my communicator to call reinforcements.

“Watch out your back!”

I spun at his warning. A Wintermoon wolf lunged through the smoke. Before I could react, Marcellus yanked me aside, his arm wrapping around my waist. The attacker’s blade slashed where I had been standing.

We moved like two wolves in one soul — synchronized. He circled right, I circled left. The thug lunged again. I dropped low, sweeping his legs, while Marcellus struck him unconscious.

“Smooth,” I said.

His hand lingered on my back. “We work well together.”

Heavy footsteps approached. Marcellus pulled me into the shadows, his body shielding mine. My heart pounded — not only from the fight. His scent was intoxicating: cedar, ozone, and the wild.

“Your warriors are two minutes out,” he whispered near my ear. “Think we can last that long?”

I faced his face, and it made our lips inches apart. “Pretty sure.”

***

My muscles remembered everything — years of brutal training disguised as “education.”

While other Alpha daughters learned harp and courtly graces, I learned from retired Shadow Wolves, rogue champions and underground fighters who knew every vicious trick.

A wolf charged me with a blade. I grabbed his wrist, twisted, and flipped him. He hit the ground hard.

Marcellus let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

“You should see me when I’m not annoyed.” I blocked a punch and jabbed my elbow into another wolf’s ribs.

Two more emerged — military-trained wolves by their stance. Marcellus and I pressed back-to-back, breathing in sync.

“Seven o’clock,” he muttered.

I caught a glint to my left. “Weapon!”

We dove behind a container as shots rang out, bullets sparking off metal. The sharp cracks echoed across the dark water. I checked my ammo.

“How many rounds?” Marcellus asked.

“Thirteen. One in the Chamber.” I peeked. “They’re pinning us.”

More gunfire — closer. They were flanking. A shadow darted left.

“We split,” I said. “Draw their aim.”

Marcellus grabbed my arm. “A suicide?”

“Trust me.” I met his eyes. “My father didn’t spend a fortune training me to cower.”

Before he could argue, I rolled toward the next crate. Bullets struck the ground behind me. I came up firing, forcing one gunman into cover.

Then— A shotgun racked directly behind my head.

“Stay right there,” a strange voice ordered.