Caleb's POV
The shattered mahogany desk bit deeply into my bleeding knuckles.
My chest heaved as I stared at the blank holographic screen. Adrenaline, fury, and blinding protectiveness warred inside my veins.
"Sir!" My second-in-command, Kael, burst into the ruined penthouse. He froze at the sight of my glowing crimson eyes. "The perimeter is locked down. Every operative we have is on the streets."
"Tear this city apart," I snarled, my voice a demonic rumble. "Find them."
But my wolf was clawing at the inside of my ribcage, thrashing frantically. I needed an anchor. The violent bloodlust threatening to consume me completely required an outlet, or an anchor to ground my sanity.
My mind instantly flashed to the terrified, fragile woman trembling in that dark alley. Elara.
"Go to the royal vaults," I commanded Kael, my breathing ragged. "Retrieve the Moonbloom root. Now."
Kael's jaw dropped. "Alpha, the Moonbloom? It's reserved strictly for the royal bloodline. Giving it to a commoner—"
I grabbed him by the throat, lifting him an inch off the ground. My claws pricked his carotid artery. "Do not question me. Get it."
Elara's POV
The wail of the sirens outside pierced the thin walls of my grocery store. Tactical helicopters vibrated the cheap glass of my front window.
The entire city was on a Level-One lockdown. The Blackwood Syndicate was hunting. I knew exactly who they were looking for.
I stood behind the worn wooden counter, my stomach tied in agonizing knots. Every passing spotlight from the choppers felt like a sniper laser on my forehead. My spine was rigid, my muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap.
If Caleb found out Arthur sent that email... if he realized those pups in the basement were his...
He would take them. And then he would execute me for being Nightshade.
The bell above the heavy wooden threshold chimed violently.
The door flew open.
A suffocating wave of pure cedar and ozone crashed into the small shop. The sheer force of the Lycan Alpha's aura caused the lightbulbs overhead to flicker and pop.
Caleb stepped inside.
He looked like a god of war who had just walked off a blood-soaked battlefield. His suit was ruined. His knuckles were severely bruised, caked in dried blood. And his golden eyes were completely ferocious, burning with a maddening intensity that made my breath hitch.
I immediately forced my body to shrink back. I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, perfectly mimicking the terrified civilian.
"W-What are you doing here?" I stammered, my voice trembling. "The sirens... people are screaming outside."
Caleb's chest heaved. He closed the distance between us in three massive strides. He dwarfed me completely, trapping me behind the counter.
He didn't speak. He slammed a heavy, obsidian box onto the cheap wood between us.
The lid popped open.
A faint, ethereal silver glow illuminated my face. The scent of pure, unadulterated healing essence filled my lungs. The Moonbloom root. The most priceless, potent medical herb in the Lycan kingdom. It could heal a shattered spine in hours.
"Take it," Caleb ordered. His voice was raw, grating like two boulders grinding together. His eyes swept over me, thick with an irrational obsession. "Consume it. It will stop your shaking."
I stared at the glowing root, and then up at his bruised, terrifying face.
He was tearing the city apart to find his hidden bloodline. Yet, in the middle of his absolute rampage, he came here to forcefully slip a priceless royal relic to a random, traumatized woman he thought needed his protection.
The irony tasted like ash in my throat.
My nails dug brutally into my own palms in the shadows.
"I don't want it," I said. My voice was no longer trembling. It was dead and cold.
Caleb's eyes narrowed dangerously. The golden irises flared. "I am not asking, Elara. You almost died tonight. Your nerves are destroyed. Eat it."
"I said, no." I pushed the heavy obsidian box back towards him. The stone scraped loudly against the wood. "I don't need your charity. I don't need your money. I just want to run my shop and be left alone."
His jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. He leaned down, his face entirely too close to mine. I could feel the intense, burning heat radiating off his massive chest.
"You are under my protection now," Caleb growled, a low, territorial sound that vibrated deep into my bones. "You do not refuse me."
"Protection?" I spat, letting a genuine flash of anger bleed into my act. "Look outside! Your men are tearing the streets apart like feral beasts! You think you are protecting me? You are dragging me into your terrifying world! Take your glowing weed and get out of my store!"
For a second, absolute silence reigned in the small shop.
Caleb looked at me as if I had just slapped him across the face. The almighty Lycan King, the most feared predator on the continent, was standing frozen in a dingy grocery store, completely rejected by a low-level commoner.
His breathing was ragged. His fists clenched so tightly the bruised knuckles split open again, bleeding onto the floor.
"Fine," Caleb finally hissed. The hurt and fury in his voice were palpable. He turned his back on me. "The root stays. Throw it in the trash if you want."
He stormed out. The heavy door slammed shut so violently the glass cracked completely down the middle.
I stared at the glowing Moonbloom root sitting silently on the counter.
My heart physically ached. A twisted, painful knot tightened around my chest. But there was no time for guilt.
A sharp, high-pitched beep vibrated against my thigh.
The emergency Nightshade frequency.
I snatched the burner phone from my pocket and jammed it to my ear.
"Boss." Viola's voice was ragged, gasping for air. The terrifying sound of heavy machine-gun fire crackled in the background.
My spine snapped straight. The terrified civilian shattered into a million pieces. The assassin queen resurrected in a single heartbeat.
"Report," I commanded, my voice dropping to a freezing, deadly pitch.
"It's Julian," Viola coughed, a wet, sickening sound. "Your bastard ex-fiancé. He brought the Northern rebels. They just breached the Sector 5 armory. We're pinned down. They're executing our people trying to find you."
A deafening explosion echoed through the speaker.
Julian. The man who drugged me six years ago. The insect I should have crushed a thousand times over. He was slaughtering my people right under the noise of Caleb's city-wide lockdown.
"Hold your position," I said, my voice eerily calm. Freezing cold murder flooded my veins, drowning out any lingering anxiety about the Lycan King. "I am coming."
I crushed the burner phone in my fist. The plastic snapped into sharp pieces.
I ignored the priceless Moonbloom root on the counter. I turned on my heel and marched straight toward the back room.
The biometric scanner flashed green. The heavy steel door slid open.
The scent of gun oil and cordite hit me instantly.
I walked down the concrete steps into the heavily fortified underground bunker.
Arthur was feeding targeting coordinates into his tactical pad. Mia was meticulously lining up glass vials of lethal silver-laced neurotoxins on the table.
And in the center of the room, my five-year-old berserker, Leo, forcefully slammed the oversized magazine into a customized, high-caliber sniper rifle. The metallic clack echoed ominously in the silence.
"Mommy," Leo grinned. His tiny canines elongated into sharp, deadly fangs. "Are we going hunting?"
I stared at my three perfect, lethal children. A terrifying, blood-soaked smile slowly stretched across my face.
"Load the armor-piercing rounds, babies," I whispered, the words dripping with pure, unadulterated slaughter. "Leave absolutely no one alive."