Lahat ng Kabanata ng WEREWOLVES vs VAMPIRES: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

The light pulsed from Lyra's shoulder like a second heartbeat. Her eyes, those violet depths I had stared into a hundred times, began to shift. The color swirled, violet bleeding into amber, then back again.I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.A hybrid. She was a hybrid.The word crashed through my skull, rearranging everything I thought I knew. Every story. Every lesson. Every hate-filled tale of pure bloodlines and ancient enemies. She carried both. She was both.My father straightened slowly, his eyes locked on her face. The amber in his own eyes flickered with something I had never seen before."Everyone," he said, his voice cutting through the chaos of murmurs. "Leave us."Rylan stepped forward. "Alpha—""Now." The word was absolute.The pack hesitated, then obeyed. They melted back into the trees, casting last, bewildered looks over their shoulders. My mother lingered, her gaze fixed on Lyra with an express

The eastern guest lodge sat at the edge of the camp, separate from the main cluster of cabins. It was built for visiting alphas from allied packs…comfortable, private, and just far enough from the heart of the Den to keep strangers at a safe distance.Perfect for housing a vampire. A hybrid. Whatever Lyra was.Rylan stopped at the door. He didn't come inside. His face was still a mess of confusion and something darker."There's food," he said, jerking his head toward the interior. "Fresh water. Furs." He looked at Lyra, then quickly away. "Guards will be posted. Not to keep you in. To keep others out. For now.""For now," Lyra repeated quietly.Rylan met my eyes. There was a question in his, one he didn't voice. What happens now? I didn't have an answer.He left.The lodge was warm. A fire crackled in the stone hearth. Simple, sturdy furniture. A bed in the corner piled with furs. It should have felt like safety.

We circled. The pack pressed in around the platform, a wall of gleaming eyes and held breath. The firelight painted everything in shades of orange and shadow. Above us, the full moon hung heavy and white, witness to what was about to happen. My father moved first. Not an attack. A test. He lunged left, then right, reading my responses. Old warrior habits. I matched him step for step, my new muscles coiling with energy I hadn't possessed three days ago. "You're faster," he growled, his wolf voice rough and low. "The Crucible gave you speed." "It gave me more than that." I proved it. I feinted left, then pivoted and snapped at his flank. He dodged, but barely—my teeth grazed fur. The first blood of the fight was his. The pack roared. My father's eyes blazed. He stopped circling. "You drew blood. Good. Now the real fight

The world stopped. Lyra lay on the ground, her body crumpled and still. Blue liquid..not red, not the blood of wolves or humans..spread beneath her, glowing faintly in the firelight. It pulsed once, twice, then began to slow. "LYRA!" I was at her side before the word finished leaving my mouth. My hands hovered over her, afraid to touch, afraid to make it worse. The wounds in her chest were deep. Claw marks. Vampire claws. Her eyes were open but unfocused, staring at nothing. "No. No, no, no." I gathered her into my arms. She was cold. Always cold. But this was different. This was the cold of something leaving. "Lyra. Lyra, look at me." Her eyes drifted to mine. For a moment, they focused. A flicker of recognition. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Around us, the battle had frozen. Wolves and vampires alike stood locked in place, watching. The blue blood was something none of them had ever seen. Hybrid blood. The blood of something that shouldn't exist. My father s

The clearing still trembled with the echo of my father’s laughter. Wolves whispered in tight circles, their eyes darting between the I and the Alpha as if they were already measuring the future. The torches snapped in the wind. The scent of blood and churned earth hung thick in the air. The elders signaled for a pause before the second round. Rylan was the first to move. He stepped into the circle carrying a wooden flask, his posture careful enough not to provoke suspicions. “For the Alpha,” he said, bowing slightly as he extended the water toward my father. My father didn’t even glance at it. He rolled his shoulders once, as if loosening tension, then let out a short scoff. “Water?” His voice carried easily across the ring. “Do I look like I need water to defeat my son?” A few wolves chuckled nervously. Rylan didn’t lower his arm. “It’s tradition between rounds.” “My strength isn’t built on tradition,” my father replied, stepping closer until he towered over him. “It’s