Chapter 3: The Luna's Revenge

"Don't move."

Byrde pushes me behind him, his body tense as he scans the room. The metallic smell of blood fills my nose, making my stomach turn. The message on the wall drips red, still fresh.

"Guards!" he roars.

Within seconds, six warriors burst in. They freeze when they see the blood.

"Find Luna Margaret. Now." Byrde's voice is deadly calm, but I can feel his rage through our bond. "Lock down the pack. No one leaves."

"Yes, Your Highness."

As they rush out, Byrde turns to me. His hands cup my face, checking for injuries. "Did you see anyone? Hear anything?"

"No, I was in the storage room when-"

"Your Highness!" A young guard runs in, face pale. "The Luna... she's gone. Her car is missing. The patrol at the border said she drove through twenty minutes ago."

Byrde curses. "Track her. I want every available warrior on this."

"There's more," the guard swallows hard. "She... she took someone with her."

My heart stops. "Who?"

"The Gamma's daughter. Sarah Winters."

I sink onto the bed. Sarah is cruel, but she doesn't deserve whatever Margaret is planning.

"Why would she take Sarah?" I ask.

Byrde's jaw clenches. "Leverage. Sarah's father is still loyal to Marcus. Margaret's building an alliance."

A phone rings. Byrde answers immediately.

"Father?"

I can hear the King's voice, urgent but unclear.

Byrde's face darkens. "How many?"

He listens, then looks at me. "They found Marcus's hidden accounts. He's been funding a rogue army. Three hundred strong, at least."

Three hundred rogues. My legs start shaking.

"Margaret knows where they are," I whisper. "She's going to bring them here."

"Over my dead body." Byrde ends the call and pulls me to my feet. "We're leaving. Now."

"What? But-"

"I'm taking you to the Royal Pack. You'll be safe there while I deal with this."

"No." The word comes out stronger than I expect. "I'm not running. This is my fight too."

"Wendy-"

"She killed my father, Byrde. Marcus might have given the order, but she was part of it. I'm not hiding while she's out there."

He stares at me for a long moment. "You're nothing like what I expected."

"What did you expect?"

"Someone broken. Defeated." His thumb traces my cheek. "Not someone with fire still burning in their eyes."

A howl echoes from outside. Then another. And another.

"They're here," I breathe.

Byrde shifts instantly, his massive black wolf filling the room. I've never shifted before - they wouldn't let me, said a traitor's daughter didn't deserve a wolf. But now, with danger approaching, I feel her stirring.

Let me out, my wolf whispers. It's time.

"I can't," I say aloud. "I've never-"

Byrde shifts back, naked and magnificent. "Yes, you can. I'll help you."

Crashes echo from downstairs. Snarling. Fighting.

"Close your eyes," Byrde instructs. "Feel your wolf. She's been waiting."

I close my eyes, reaching for that presence I've always felt but never touched. She's there, patient and strong.

Trust me, she says.

I let go.

The shift is agony and ecstasy combined. Bones break and reform, skin splits and heals. When it's over, I'm on four paws, my silver-white fur glowing in the moonlight.

Byrde's wolf nuzzles mine. Beautiful, his voice echoes in my mind through our bond. Now stay close.

We burst from the room as rogues flood the packhouse. Byrde tears through them like they're paper, protecting me while I learn to move in this new form. My wolf instincts take over - dodge, bite, claw. We're a team, synchronized through our bond.

We fight our way outside where the main battle rages. Pack warriors struggle against the sheer number of rogues. In the center of it all stands Margaret, still in human form, Sarah unconscious at her feet.

"There you are!" Margaret screams when she sees me. "The little orphan who destroyed everything!"

She shifts into a gray wolf, charging at me. Byrde moves to intercept, but three rogues block him. I have to face her alone.

Margaret is experienced, trained. I'm minutes old in my wolf form. She pins me easily, teeth at my throat.

Should have stayed human, girl. At least then your death would've been quick.

But my wolf isn't afraid. She's been caged for eighteen years, and she's angry.

With strength I didn't know I had, I throw Margaret off. We circle each other, and I notice something. She's favoring her left side. An old injury.

I feint right, then attack left. My teeth sink into her shoulder, and she howls. We roll, snapping and clawing. She's skilled, but I'm desperate. And desperation makes me dangerous.

Just when I think I might win, pain explodes through my side. I look down to see an arrow protruding from my ribs. Wolfsbane. The poison burns through my veins immediately.

"No!" Byrde's roar shakes the ground. He abandons his fight, racing to me.

Margaret laughs, shifting back to human form. "A parting gift from Marcus's weapon collection. Amazing what you can coat arrows with these days."

My vision blurs. I shift back, gasping. The arrow is deep, the wolfsbane spreading fast.

Byrde catches me as I fall. "Stay with me. Stay with me!"

"It's too late," Margaret says. "That's concentrated wolfsbane. She has minutes, maybe less."

"There has to be something-"

"There is." A new voice cuts through the chaos. An elderly woman steps forward, power radiating from her small frame. "But it requires a price."

"Anything," Byrde says immediately.

"Not from you," the woman looks at me. "From her."

"Who are you?" I gasp, each breath agony.

"Someone who knew your father. Someone who owes his daughter a debt." She kneels beside me. "I can save you, but the wolfsbane will leave a mark. You'll carry darkness in you forever. And one day, that darkness will demand payment."

"I don't care," I wheeze. "Save me."

"No," Margaret snarls. "I won't let you-"

She doesn't finish. The King appears behind her, snapping her neck in one swift motion. She drops, dead before she hits the ground.

"Do it," the King orders the woman.

She places her hands on my wound and begins chanting in a language I don't understand. Pain beyond anything I've experienced tears through me. I scream, my back arching.

Black veins spread from the wound, covering my entire left side before fading to silver scars. The arrow dissolves, the wound closes, and suddenly I can breathe again.

But something's different. There's a coldness in my chest that wasn't there before.

"What did you do to her?" Byrde demands.

The woman stands, looking tired. "I gave her a second chance. But magic always demands balance. The darkness she now carries will call to others like it. She'll attract danger, supernatural and otherwise."

"What kind of danger?" I ask, sitting up slowly.

She meets my eyes. "The kind that makes rogue armies look like child's play."

Before anyone can respond, she vanishes, leaving only the scent of sage and old magic.

Byrde helps me stand. Around us, the remaining rogues are surrendering or fleeing. The battle is won, but looking at the silver scars covering my side, I know the war has just begun.

"Your Highness!" A guard approaches. "We found something in Margaret's car. Documents. Plans."

Byrde takes the papers, his face paling as he reads. "This isn't over. Marcus and Margaret were working for someone else. Someone called 'The Collector.'"

"The Collector?" I repeat.

"According to this, he collects rare wolves. Wolves with special abilities." He looks at me, fear in his eyes. "And Margaret sent him information about you. About a silver wolf who survived concentrated wolfsbane."

I touch my scars. They tingle with strange energy.

"He's coming for you," Byrde says. "We need to get you somewhere safe."

But even as he says it, we both know the truth. Nowhere is safe anymore.

In the distance, a howl rises. Not a normal wolf howl, but something older, darker.

The Collector already knows where I am.