The Price Of Power

Ronan staggered back, his half-shifted form crouched low and snarling, claws dripping with blood, eyes blazing with fury. Across from him, Diva stood tall, shoulders squared, her chest rising and falling with each sharp breath. Blood smeared her cheek, and the remnants of broken silver chains clung to her ankles like dead vines. But she didn’t feel the sting. Not now. Not anymore.

Her golden eyes never left him.

He charged again, snarling.

She met him halfway.

Their bodies collided with a bone-rattling impact that sent shockwaves through the chamber. His claws slashed across her side, tearing through flesh, but her growl didn’t waver. She twisted her hips, slammed her elbow into his ribs, then brought her claws down hard across his back. Ronan roared, spinning with surprising speed, and sank his fangs into her shoulder. She cried out, her knees buckling.

Pain. Sharp, hot, and real.

But it didn’t own her.

She shoved him off with a feral growl and stumbled back, the wound pulsing, her skin already knitting itself together. He charged again. She ducked, clawed upward, and caught him under the chin. Blood sprayed from his jaw, dark and thick.

Ronan fell back, growling low, pacing now, circling her like a predator who finally realizes the prey might have teeth too.

"You should be dead," he spat, his voice distorted by his shifting snout. "You don’t have the strength."

Diva’s lips peeled back into a snarl. "You never understood me. You never understood any of us."

She moved with purpose now, faster, sharper. Her strikes landed clean, each one stronger than the last. And as she fought, something stirred inside her. A whisper. No—a memory that wasn’t hers.

*"Stand tall, child of the moon. We do not kneel."

"Claws up. Eyes open. Breathe through the rage."

"You are born from the old blood. Let it rise."*

The voices didn’t distract her. They anchored her. Old, powerful, commanding.

Her grandmother? No. Older.

The ancestors.

She blinked, and for a moment, the chamber faded. She saw a wide clearing bathed in moonlight. Dozens of wolves stood beneath the stars, massive and regal, eyes glowing with pride. One stepped forward, her fur silvered with age, her gaze steady.

"Let the Alpha within you awaken, daughter. Let the wolf rise."

Diva exhaled, and when she opened her eyes, they burned brighter than gold. They blazed.

Ronan hesitated.

She didn’t.

Diva leapt. Her claws tore through the air, slicing across his chest. He howled and struck back, but she caught his wrist, twisted, and drove her knee into his gut. He coughed, staggered, but she didn’t give him time to recover.

She followed up with a backhanded strike that sent him sprawling into the stone wall. Dust rained down from above.

Ronan slumped to the ground, his breath ragged, his form flickering between beast and man. His arrogance had bled out of him.

She approached slowly, her boots crunching over broken rock, her wolf still snarling inside her.

He looked up at her, a snarl still curling his lip. "You think you’ve won? You think you're Alpha now? You don’t even know what that means."

Diva stood over him, chest heaving, power radiating from her skin like heat from a wildfire. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

He lunged, one last time.

She caught him mid-air and slammed him to the ground with earthshaking force. Her claws pressed against his throat.

"Yield," she growled.

His red eyes burned into hers. "Never."

She pressed harder. His breath hitched.

"You are the storm, girl. You do not wait for permission."

The voice was inside her again. Louder now. Sharper.

"End him or spare him. But do it on your terms."

Her claws trembled.

And then she stepped back.

Ronan gasped, clutching his throat, coughing hard. He tried to rise, but fell onto his side, weak, bloodied, beaten.

Diva turned from him, her back straight, her heart still pounding. She walked to Derek.

He was slumped against the wall, barely conscious, the silver knife still in his hand, coated in blood. His eyes cracked open when he felt her near.

"Diva..."

She crouched beside him, brushed her fingers along his jaw. "I’m here. He’s down. It’s over."

Derek shook his head weakly. "Not... over. Not yet."

She turned her gaze back to Ronan, who was still breathing, still watching. But he didn’t move. Not yet.

And that’s when she felt it.

It started as a tug. Gentle. A thread pulling from somewhere deep inside her.

She blinked, staggered slightly. The warmth in her limbs, the strength that had surged in her bones during the fight... it was fading.

Her wolf whimpered.

"No," she whispered.

Another thread pulled.

Her knees buckled. She caught herself against the wall, chest tightening. The golden light in her veins dulled, flickering.

The voices were gone.

The wolves in the clearing were gone.

Diva clutched her stomach, gasping. Her claws retracted. Her breathing became shallow.

Derek tried to reach for her, but he couldn’t move. "Diva? What’s happening?"

She didn’t know.

Something had been awakened inside her. Something ancient and strong. It had helped her rise. Helped her fight. Helped her win.

But now it was retreating.

Vanishing.

Like a tide rolling out to sea.

Ronan chuckled weakly from the ground, coughing blood. "Power like that... doesn’t come free."

Diva turned to him, rage flashing in her eyes.

"What did you do to me?"

He smirked, blood dripping from his lips. "You woke something you weren’t ready for. And now it’s leaving. That strength... it wasn’t yours to keep."

She wanted to strike him again. To rip the truth from his throat. But her arms felt heavy now. Her body shook with exhaustion.

And still, she stood.

She had to.

Even as her power slipped away, even as the ancient fire dimmed inside her, she refused to fall.

Not in front of him.

Not in front of Derek.

Not again.

She met Ronan’s gaze with defiance. "It was enough to defeat you. That’s all that matters."

He didn’t answer. His eyes fluttered closed.

The chamber fell quiet.

Diva turned back to Derek, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She sank beside him again, gripping his hand.

"We’re not done yet," she whispered.

His eyes locked with hers. "No. We’re not."

Outside, the wind howled through the broken walls.

The moon had begun to rise.

And somewhere in the darkness, fate waited for its next move.