The scent hit me first—rogue wolves. Their feral, unwashed odor carried on the night breeze, setting my inner wolf, Grace, on high alert.
"Olivia, behind you!" shouted Derek, one of our younger Delta wolves patrolling the border with me.
I spun around just as a massive gray wolf lunged from the shadows. His eyes gleamed with a wild hunger that sent ice through my veins. Not the typical territory dispute—these rogues wanted blood.
"Run back to the pack house!" I commanded Derek, my voice steady despite the fear clawing at my throat. "Alert Ethan!"
As the young wolf sprinted away, I shifted instantly, my bones cracking and reforming as my Luna wolf emerged. Grace was strong—we'd trained for this—but as three more rogues slunk from the treeline, I knew we were outnumbered.
The first rogue attacked, teeth snapping inches from my throat. I dodged and countered, my jaws clamping down on his shoulder. The taste of blood filled my mouth as he yelped in pain. But the victory was short-lived. Sharp teeth sank into my hind leg, dragging me backward across the forest floor.
Pain exploded through my body as claws raked across my flank. I fought wildly, but they surrounded me, taking turns lunging and retreating. Their strategy was clear—they weren't trying to kill me quickly. They were playing, enjoying the hunt.
"Ethan!" I cried through our mind-link, desperation flooding my thoughts. "Northern border—rogues—"
A crushing weight slammed into my side, and I heard the sickening crack of ribs. My vision blurred as I collapsed onto the damp earth, the moonlight above fracturing into hazy shards. The largest rogue loomed over me, his hot breath on my face reeking of decay and malice.
A thunderous roar split the night. The massive black form of my mate burst through the trees, his Alpha aura radiating such fury that even I felt its pressure. The rogues scattered like leaves in a storm, but the damage was done.
I tried to stand but collapsed, my legs refusing to support my weight. Blood—too much blood—matted my silver fur.
"Olivia!" Ethan's voice in my mind was frantic as he shifted back to human form and gathered my wolf body in his arms. "Stay with me, love. Don't close your eyes."
But darkness was pulling me under, the moon above growing distant and cold.
---
I drifted in and out of consciousness, catching fragments of panic around me.
"She's lost too much blood—"
"—rare blood type—"
"—won't survive without—"
Ethan's voice cut through the haze, desperate and commanding. "Search every record! There must be someone in the territory with her blood type!"
I wanted to reach for him, to tell him I was still fighting, but my body felt impossibly heavy. Grace whimpered within me, her strength fading alongside mine.
Time blurred. The healing den's ceiling swam above me, moonstone crystals embedded in the wood pulsing with gentle light. Maeve, our pack healer, worked tirelessly, her hands moving in practiced motions as she applied poultices to my wounds and murmured ancient healing chants.
"Stay with us, Luna," she whispered. "Your mate is moving mountains to save you."
I believed her. Ethan had always been my protector, from the moment he'd promised my dying mother he would keep me safe. Through seven years of our mate bond, he'd never failed me.
When I next opened my eyes, Ethan was bursting through the healing den doors, a petite female with copper hair trailing behind him.
"I found her," he announced, relief evident in his voice. "A lone wolf living on the outskirts of our territory. She has the blood type."
Maeve moved quickly, preparing for the transfusion while Ethan knelt beside my bed, his fingers intertwining with mine.
"You'll be alright now, my Luna," he whispered, pressing his lips to my forehead. "This is Amber. She's agreed to help."
I turned my head weakly, meeting the gaze of the woman who would save my life. Her eyes—a striking amber that matched her name—held something I couldn't quite identify. Not compassion or concern, but something calculating, assessing.
"Thank you," I managed to whisper.
She smiled, but it didn't reach those amber eyes. "Of course. What else could I do?"
As Maeve began the transfusion, Ethan hovered not over me, but Amber. He brushed her copper hair back from her face with a gentleness that seemed oddly intimate.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked her. "This won't hurt for long."
Something cold settled in my stomach that had nothing to do with my injuries. Grace growled softly within me, a warning I was too weak to heed.
"She'll need to stay close," Ethan announced as my eyelids grew heavy again. "As blood security. In case Olivia needs more."
Through the fog of pain and medication, I watched my mate's hand linger on Amber's shoulder, his eyes filled with a concern that seemed excessive for a stranger.
As darkness claimed me once more, one thought echoed in my fading consciousness: Why was he looking at her like that?
