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The impact drives the air from my lungs. I gasp, and his weight settles across my chest, impossible, crushing, the weight of something that shouldn’t exist in this world. My claws scrabble against his forearms. I rake them down, drawing blood, but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even seem to notice.
His other hand finds my throat. His claws, those terrible, luminous claws, press against the soft skin beneath my jaw. One twitch. One fraction of an inch. That’s all it would take.
I stop moving. My body goes still beneath him, every muscle locked, every instinct screaming at me to fight, to twist, to do anything, but the pressure of those claws against my jugular is a language older than words, and my body understands it perfectly.
Don’t. Move.
His silver white eyes hold mine. There’s no cruelty in them. No satisfaction. Just the flat, assessing gaze of a predator that has ended the fight and is deciding what comes next. His chest heaves against mine, one breath, two, and his jaw opens slightly, those massive teeth gleaming in the dark.
I can feel my pulse hammering against his claw. Each beat presses my throat harder against the edge. My vision is starting to go grey at the edges, not from blood loss but from the sheer, crushing pressure of his weight. In one swift motion I’m pressed to the ground, his claw extends towards my neck.
The Lycan’s claw presses harder. A thin line of heat blooms beneath my jaw, not a cut, not yet, but the promise of one. The kind of promise that doesn’t need words. His breath washes over my face, hot and animal, carrying the scent of ozone and something older than ozone.
Pups. Mate. I’m sorry.
The hospital doors explode open.
The sound cracks across the square like a gunshot, wood hitting stone, hinges screaming, and two small shapes come tearing through the gap. They’re moving so fast they blur at the edges, bare feet slapping against the cobblestones, oversized clothes flapping around their thin frames like flags in a gale.
”DADDY!”
Damian’s voice hits me first, raw, wrecked, the voice of a six year old who has spent the last hour not knowing if I was alive. Darlene’s follows half a heartbeat behind, higher, thinner, cracking on the second syllable.
”DADDY!”
The Lycan’s head snaps toward the sound of my pups.
7
Selena's POV
The pups hit the doors before I do.
“DADDY!” I burst through after them and the square hits me all at once, blood on stone, bodies scattered like debris, and in the center of it all, Rylan.
My mate. Lycan shifted, massive, luminous, his silver white fur catching the torchlight like something forged rather than born. And beneath him, pinned beneath that impossible weight, a black Alpha wolf with blood matting its flank and Rylan’s claw pressed against the soft skin of its throat.
No. “Rylan. Rylan, don’t kill him.”
He doesn’t move. His claw doesn’t shift. His silver white eyes stay locked on the wolf beneath him.
“Look at me.”
I push the thought through the bond hard enough to hurt. His head turns. His eyes find mine across the square, and the glow in them flares, silver white meeting silver white, the mate bond pulling taut between us like a cable.
“That’s her mate.” I pour it into him, fast, everything at once. “The shewolf’s mate. The pups’ father. Don’t you dare kill him in front of his children.”
His jaw tightens. I can feel the argument forming, the Alpha instinct, the territorial fury, the part of him that has just watched this wolf tear through his warriors like paper, and then he feels what I feel. Darlene’s sobs behind me. Damian’s small hands are already reaching.
“Rylan releases him.” The claw withdraws. The weight lifts. The black wolf rolls sideways, gasping, blood welling from the furrows across its ribs, and shifts back mid motion, bones cracking, fur retreating, the massive form collapsing into the shape of a man who hits the cobblestones on his knees and opens his arms.
Damian hits him first. Darlene a half second behind. They crash into him with the force of something that has been building for hours, and his arms close around them so tight I hear the air leave their small bodies. He buries his face in their hair. “My pups. You’re safe. Thank the Goddess.” The words come out wrecked. He doesn’t look up. “Thank you, Goddess.”
He shows me his neck as he bows in front of me, “Luna, may I ask, how’s my mate? Arlene. Please tell me… where is my mate?” His voice chokes at the last sentence.
“She survived.” I say it fast, before the question can finish consuming him. “She’s stable. Healer Thomas removed the branch, applied Moon Essence. She’s in the hospital. Go to her…. Second room on the left.” He’s moving before the last word leaves my mouth. He scoops both pups into his arms, he’s on his feet, crossing the square at a pace that’s closer to running than walking.
Three warriors step into his path. They materialize from the side street, bloodied from the fight. “Stop right there. You don’t go anywhere until the Alpha...”
