The Warehouse

The drive back to the city felt different.

The power hummed beneath my skin, a low, constant thrum like a second heartbeat. Alistair kept glancing at me, his eyes flickering between gold and brown. Every few miles, he would reach over and touch my hand, as if reassuring himself that the bond was real.

I felt it too. A golden thread connecting us, stronger than anything I had ever known. When he was anxious, I felt it. When he was angry, I felt it. And underneath all of that, something warmer. Something that felt like hope.

"We need a plan," I said as the Manhattan skyline appeared on the horizon.

"We need more than a plan. We need warriors." Alistair's jaw tightened. "Viktor won't come alone. He'll have his rogue pack with him. At least thirty wolves."

"Can you call your pack?"

"I can try. But some of them won't follow me. The elders are still angry about Elena. They think I'm unstable."

"Then we find other allies."

Alistair looked at me. "You mean Derek."

"I mean Derek." I met his gaze. "He gave us the information. He stood up to Lydia. He wants redemption."

"I don't trust him."

"You don't have to trust him. You just have to let him fight beside us."

Alistair was silent for a long moment. Then he sighed. "Fine. Call him. But if he betrays us, I won't hesitate."

I pulled out my phone and dialed Derek's number. He answered on the first ring.

"Clara? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. We need your help. Tonight. The warehouse in Brooklyn."

There was a pause. "You're going after them?"

"We're going to stop them. Viktor plans to curse Alistair, maybe kill him. We can't let that happen."

"I'll be there." His voice was steady. "I'll bring a few wolves I trust. Wolves who are loyal to me, not to Lydia."

"Thank you, Derek."

"Don't thank me yet. Thank me when we're all still alive."

He hung up.

Alistair's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. "I still hate him."

"I know."

"But I'll fight beside him. For you."

I reached over and squeezed his hand. "That's all I ask."

---

We spent the afternoon preparing.

Alistair called four wolves from his inner circle—warriors who had known him since childhood. They arrived at his penthouse one by one: Marcus, a massive man with a shaved head and kind eyes; Sonya, a sharp-faced woman who moved like a blade; twins Leo and Lance, who finished each other's sentences.

They looked at me with curiosity, with suspicion, with something like awe.

"She's the Hidden Luna," Alistair said. "My mate. And tonight, she fights with us."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "She's an Omega."

"She was an Omega. Now she's more." Alistair's voice left no room for argument. "You will protect her as you would protect me. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Alpha," they said in unison.

At seven o'clock, Derek arrived with three wolves of his own. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut. Alistair and Derek stood on opposite sides, not speaking, not looking at each other.

I stepped between them. "We don't have to like each other. But we have to work together. Viktor is the enemy. Not us."

Derek nodded. "Agreed."

Alistair said nothing, but his hand found mine.

We went over the plan. The warehouse was in a derelict part of Brooklyn, surrounded by empty lots and broken streets. Viktor would likely have guards posted outside. Lydia would be with him, along with the witch.

"I'll handle the witch," I said. "Morwen gave me something to slow her down."

"And Viktor?" Marcus asked.

Alistair's eyes turned gold. "Viktor is mine."

---

The warehouse loomed before us, black against the bruised purple sky.

We approached in silence, spread out in a loose formation. Alistair and I took the lead, our wolves sniffing the air for danger. The scent of rogue wolves was everywhere—unwashed, feral, wrong.

"There are at least twenty inside," Sonya whispered.

"Thirty," Marcus corrected. "Maybe more."

Alistair held up a hand. We stopped.

He looked at me. "Ready?"

"No. But I'm doing it anyway."

He almost smiled. Then he shifted.

The change was beautiful and terrible. His bones cracked, his body expanded, and golden fur sprouted across his skin. Within seconds, a massive wolf stood where Alistair had been—golden-eyed, powerful, terrifying.

My wolf surged inside me, eager to join him. But I held back. I needed my hands for the vial.

The others shifted too—Marcus, Sonya, the twins, Derek and his wolves. A pack of ten, ready to fight thirty.

We moved.

The first guard died before he could scream. Marcus took him down with a single bite to the throat. Sonya and the twins dispatched two more. Then the warehouse doors burst open, and chaos erupted.

Wolves poured out—rogues with matted fur and wild eyes. They fought without honor, without strategy, driven only by hunger and loyalty to Viktor.

Alistair tore through them like a golden storm. Wherever he went, rogues fell. But there were too many. For every one he killed, two more appeared.

I stayed close to him, using my human form to slip through the gaps. The vial was clutched in my hand, warm against my palm.

I saw her.

The witch stood at the warehouse entrance, her arms raised, chanting in a language I didn't recognize. Dark energy swirled around her, crackling like lightning.

I ran.

A rogue lunged at me. Derek intercepted him, teeth sinking into the rogue's neck. He didn't look at me—just kept fighting, clearing my path.

I reached the witch.

She turned, her eyes black and empty. "Little Omega. You shouldn't have come."

"I'm not an Omega."

I threw the vial at her feet. It shattered, releasing a cloud of silver mist. The witch screamed, stumbled back, her dark energy flickering.

"Morwen's brew!" she snarled. "That old crone will pay for this."

"You'll have to survive first."

I shifted.

My wolf exploded out of me, larger than I expected, faster than I remembered. Golden light radiated from my fur, and the rogues around me recoiled, whining.

The Hidden Luna.

The witch raised her hands to cast another spell, but the silver mist was slowing her, making her movements sluggish. I lunged.

My teeth sank into her shoulder. She screamed, and the dark energy around her shattered like glass. She collapsed, unconscious but alive.

I turned back to the battle.

Alistair was fighting Viktor.

---

The rogue Alpha was enormous—black-furred, red-eyed, scarred from countless battles. He and Alistair circled each other, growling, snapping. Blood matted Alistair's golden fur, but he didn't retreat.

I ran to help, but Lydia blocked my path.

She was in her human form, a knife in her hand. Her face was twisted with hatred.

"You think you've won?" she spat. "You think being a Hidden Luna makes you special?"

"It makes me dangerous."

I lunged. She dodged, slashing with the knife. The blade caught my arm, and pain flared. But I didn't stop. I grabbed her wrist, twisted, and the knife clattered to the ground.

"You were always jealous of me," I said, pinning her against the wall. "Even as children. Even when Derek chose you. You were never happy because you knew—you knew I was stronger."

Lydia laughed—a broken, desperate sound. "Stronger? You're nothing. You've always been nothing."

I leaned close, my wolf's golden light illuminating her face. "Then why are you so afraid?"

Something cracked in her eyes. The hatred, the bravado—it crumbled. For a moment, I saw the scared little girl she had been. The one who had watched her mother die, the one who had learned that power was the only safety.

But I didn't pity her.

I knocked her unconscious with a single blow to the temple.

Then I turned to Alistair.

---

Viktor had him pinned.

The black wolf's jaws were around Alistair's throat, pressing down, slowly crushing. Alistair's golden eyes were wide, desperate, his claws scrabbling at the concrete.

"No!"

I ran. I didn't think. I just moved.

My wolf slammed into Viktor's side, knocking him off Alistair. We rolled across the warehouse floor, snarling, biting. He was stronger than me—years of fighting, years of rage. But I was faster. And I had something he didn't.

Power.

The golden light blazed from my fur, searing his eyes. He yelped, released me, staggered back.

Alistair was on his feet again. He circled Viktor from the other side, cutting off his escape.

"You killed Elena," Alistair growled, his voice vibrating through the bond. "You framed her. Made me believe she had betrayed me."

"She was weak," Viktor spat. "Like you. Like all of you."

"She was innocent. And you took her from me."

Alistair lunged.

The two Alphas collided—golden fur against black, fangs and claws and fury. I tried to help, but the bond held me back. This was Alistair's fight. His vengeance. His redemption.

Viktor was strong, but Alistair was stronger now. My power flowed through him, strengthening his limbs, sharpening his senses. He moved like lightning, dodging Viktor's attacks, striking with precision.

Finally, he pinned Viktor to the ground, his jaws around the rogue Alpha's throat.

"Any last words?" Alistair asked.

Viktor laughed—a wet, gurgling sound. "She's still out there. The witch. She cursed you before Clara stopped her. Not a death curse. Something worse." His red eyes gleamed. "You'll lose everything you love. Just like before."

Alistair's jaws tightened.

"Alistair," I said through the bond. "Do it."

He bit down.

Viktor went still.

---

The battle was over.

The remaining rogues fled into the night. Derek and his wolves rounded up the survivors, binding them for the pack elders to judge. Sonya and Marcus tended to the wounded. The witch was tied and gagged.

Lydia lay where I had left her, unconscious but alive.

Alistair shifted back to human form. He was covered in blood—some his, most Viktor's. His eyes were still gold, still burning.

"Are you okay?" I asked, shifting back too.

He pulled me into his arms. "I am now."

We stood there, holding each other, as the warehouse burned around us. Someone had knocked over a lantern, or maybe the witch's magic had caught fire. Flames licked at the walls, climbing toward the ceiling.

"We need to go," Derek said. He was holding a weeping Lydia, his face unreadable. "The fire department will be here soon."

Alistair nodded. He took my hand, and we walked out of the warehouse together.

Behind us, Viktor's body disappeared into the smoke.

Ahead of us, the night stretched out, uncertain and full of promise.

We had won.

But Viktor's last words echoed in my head: "You'll lose everything you love. Just like before."

What curse had the witch cast before I stopped her?

I looked at Alistair, at his strong profile, his steady hand holding mine.

I didn't ask.

Not yet.