His eyes held storms I didn't know how to survive.
Darius's wolf spoke through the bond. Running won't help you, Luna.
And Gideon stood at the edge of the clearing, watching. Calculating. Waiting to see what would happen next.
The tension was suffocating. Two Alphas. One female. The full moon bearing witness.
The forest around us thrummed with ancient energy. Pine needles carpeted the ground, releasing their sharp, clean scent with every step. Moss clung to the bark of towering oaks, luminescent in the moonlight—silver-green and glowing faintly as if the trees themselves were alive with wolf magic. The air was thick and humid, carrying the musk of earth and decay from the underbrush, mingled with something wilder—the unmistakable scent of dominant wolves, all leather and smoke and raw power.
Crickets had gone silent. Even the night birds held their breath. When Alphas clashed, nature itself took notice.
