Darkness Falls

Ronan towered over Derek, the silver blade still sunk deep into the Alpha's side. Blood ran in thick rivulets down Derek’s flank, soaking his torn shirt and pooling at his boots. His chest rose and fell in ragged gasps, breath shallow from the brutal clash with the rogue pack—and now this betrayal. But his eyes, sharp and unyielding, stayed locked on Ronan.

“You’re still breathing?” Ronan sneered, crouching low beside him. “Let’s change that.”

With a savage yank, he ripped the silver knife free. Derek’s growl ripped through clenched teeth as agony surged through him, his hand pressing instinctively to the wound. But he didn’t collapse. He was an Alpha—he wouldn’t give a traitor like Ronan the victory of watching him break.

Ronan ran a thumb over the bloodied blade, the silver glinting under the torchlight. “Fitting, don’t you think?” he mocked. “Killed by the illusion you called love.”

He raised the blade, its tip aimed for Derek’s throat.

Then something ancient stirred.

A pulse ripped through the chamber—not wind, but raw energy. A force older than bloodlines or moon cycles. The silver chains binding Diva shattered with a sound like bone snapping.

Ronan froze.

A low, bone-deep snarl rolled across the stone floor.

Diva stood.

Her eyes blazed gold, brighter than a full moon at its peak. Her limbs trembled—not from weakness, but from the storm of power coiling beneath her skin. The remnants of the blood-forged chains sizzled against the ground, steam rising as if the metal had been touched by the gods themselves. Her wolf was no longer caged.

“Step away from him,” she growled, her voice laced with her beast’s snarl.

Ronan turned, scoffing. “You’re barely upright. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

But Diva didn’t waver. She stepped forward—slow, deliberate. The very air thickened around her, heavy with dominance. Her aura wasn’t the gentle flicker Ronan had once manipulated. It was wildfire now.

His smirk faltered. He could feel it—the blood spell unraveling. The bond he'd forced onto her dissolving, bleeding away in crimson threads of mist.

“No…” he whispered, a flicker of dread crossing his face.

Diva kept walking.

“You thought breaking me would make me yours,” she snapped. “You thought my wolf could be silenced by fear. But the bond you forced tied me to someone stronger than you. And that gave me everything I need to end this.”

Her power surged, radiating like heat from a furnace.

Ronan stepped back.

Diva lunged.

Her claws struck his chest, shoving him across the room. His back hit stone with a sickening crack, and the silver blade clattered across the floor—skidding right to Derek’s fingertips.

Ronan gasped, winded.

Diva placed herself between him and Derek, her chest heaving, eyes wild. Her claws were unsheathed now, her skin glowing with the nearness of her shift.

Behind her, Derek’s hand closed around the hilt of the knife.

Ronan groaned, pushing himself upright. A snarl tore from his lips as bones cracked beneath his skin. His form began to shift—joints snapping, spine stretching, fur bursting from his arms. His muzzle elongated, teeth gleaming. He was almost full-wolf now, monstrous and unhinged.

“You want to protect him?” he snarled through jagged teeth. “Then you’ll die beside him.”

Diva dropped low, fangs bared, her wolf blazing behind her eyes.

Ronan launched.

They met with a thunderous crash, claws slashing, bodies colliding like mountains. Diva grunted, struggling under his brute strength, but her feet held. Her claws lashed out, raking deep across his fur-covered chest.

Ronan howled, rage-fueled and rabid. He struck her across the face, but instead of faltering, she roared. Golden light burst from beneath her skin, her bones shifting fast—her wolf clawing forward, howling for blood.

Derek felt it even through the haze of pain—her transformation. The power. The fury.

Ronan struck again, but this time she met him fully.

Her shift erupted mid-motion—fur, fangs, and fury exploding as she tackled him, slamming him into the stone. Her massive paws pinned his shoulders, her teeth inches from his throat.

Behind her, Derek rose just enough to clutch the silver blade.

Ronan roared, rolling with brute strength, trying to throw her off.

Diva twisted with him, never letting go.

Then Derek moved.

The silver blade rose.

Ronan didn’t see it coming.

Diva didn’t let go.

And in that moment, it wasn’t the blood magic or the forced bond that held her to Derek.

It was the truth of their wolves.

Pack. Mate. Strength.

Ronan charged one last time.

And the chamber went black.