The crash came from above—sharp, violent, and final. The ceiling lights trembled, sending ripples through the shadows. Rosa froze where she stood, the echo still vibrating in her bones.
The stillness that followed was not peace but the heavy breath before a storm. Her pulse thundered, each beat louder than the last. She didn't need Marshal to tell her this was not an accident. It was an invasion.
Marshal was already moving. In the dim light, his eyes flashed, and the shift in his energy was palpable. The calm, controlled presence she'd come to know hardened into something primal and lethal. "Stay behind me," he said, his tone low, yet carrying the weight of a command no one disobeyed.
Rosa followed as he pushed open the heavy doors leading back down to Lunar's main floor. What met her eyes stole the breath from her lungs.
The club had descended into chaos. Figures moved with fluid motion, as if living shadows dancing through a smoke-filled room. Tables were overturned, glass shattered, and the smell of iron and blood clung to the air.
The attackers, rival wolves, were fierce, fast, and chillingly precise. The members of Marshal's pack countered with equal fury, their movements seamless, almost choreographed.
Rosa's reporter instincts wanted to see, to comprehend, but fear froze her in place. One of the intruders sprang from the haze, teeth bared.
Before she even had time to flinch, Marshal intercepted. His motion was a blur-a perfect balance of violence and control. A sickening crack sounded, and the attacker crumpled, lifeless.
"Do not flinch," Marshal growled, short of breath. "They feed off fear.
Her lips parted. "I—I'm trying."
"Try harder." His gaze sliced to hers, and for the space of a heartbeat, time stood still. The fierce shine in his eyes was both beautiful and terrifying. It wasn't the power that called to her; it was the silent promise buried beneath the gleaming edge.
The remaining pack fought as one unit. Through the din, the voice of the silver-haired elder led above it, sharp and clear. "Hold formation. Protect the core!"
Even amidst all the carnage, Rosa could appreciate how calculated their movements were. The pups emulated their parents without fear, each strike blending into the next with deadly rhythm. This was not chaotic but a rendering of survival into art.
Rosa's eyes darted around the room and settled on a young woman-a warrior shrouded in blood and grace-deflecting an attack meant for an elder.
Her movements were beautiful, ruthless, deliberate. Rosa couldn't look away. These people weren't savages. They were family defending the pulse of their existence.
Marshal turned briefly, his voice sharp. "Move when I move. Do not stay still."
She nodded automatically. The authority in his tone bound her tighter than fear ever could. She followed him step for step, her body trembling with adrenaline and something else-something dangerously close to awe. Every movement he made was measured, every strike a calculated promise.
She wanted to understand what it meant to live in this rhythm, to be at once predator and protector. She hated how much of her wanted to belong to it.
The attackers reformed, their leader stepping through the haze. His eyes gleamed gold, feral and familiar; his smirk was taunting. "You always did keep your secrets too close, Marshal."
Marshal's voice was a growl that rolled through the room. "And you always did forget who you were speaking to."
The tension in the air thickened, the silence between them sharper than any blade. Rosa felt it upon her skin, that electric pull between predator and challenger.
"You cannot always hide her," the opposing leader said, his eyes darting toward Rosa. "The Moonblood is ours.
Marshal stepped forward, slow and deliberate. "She belongs to no one."
Their gaze clashed, and the room shook as power met power. Then, in an instant, the foe was upon them. The fight roared again to life, as stark and savage.
The blur of motion was the only thing Rosa saw before the room erupted once more into chaos. The clashing of claws against steel, the growl of wolves, and the crack of bone all joined into a symphony of survival.
She'd ducked behind an overturned table, her heart racing, and watched as Marshal moved through the fray. He was a storm made flesh-silent, unstoppable, and terrifyingly beautiful.
Every strike lethal, every motion deliberate. Yet even in battle, his eyes sought hers, grounding her, anchoring her to something more than the violence surrounding them.
She wasn't sure if it was protection or possession, but she couldn't tear her gaze from his.
Then, from the corner of the room, a new presence emerged. The figure moved with a different kind of grace—slow, confident, almost regal. The intruders stopped fighting at once, heads bowing in instinctive submission.
Rosa's breath caught; this wasn't just another enemy, this was something older.
Marshal's voice was a low snarl. "You shouldn't have come here."
The stranger smiled, eyes glinting crimson in the fractured light. "You've been keeping her from me. How careless of you."
Rosa's skin prickled, the shimmer beneath it flared to life. A heat spread through her veins, wild and uncontrollable. Marshal stepped closer, his hand finding hers in some wordless promise.
"Don't let go," he said softly.
"I can't," she whispered. "It's burning."
"I know, it's the bond reacting; they can feel it too."
The intruder smiled wider. "She's waking. The power stirs. The Moonblood is mine.
Rosa's knees buckled. The room darkened, her vision tunneling as the shimmer beneath her skin flared to light.
The glow spilled from her hands, bright enough to paint the floor in silver. The intruders recoiled, shielding their eyes, while the pack froze in awe.
Marshal's grip tightened. "Breathe, Rosa. You're stronger than it.
Her voice was trembling. "What's happening to me?"
"You become what you're supposed to be.
The stranger laughed, the sound of it low, cold, crawling over her skin like a spider. "And when she becomes it, she'll destroy you all."
Marshal moved before the words even settled-a blur of shadow and fury. His strike connected, and the force of it sent the intruder crashing into the far wall.
But when the smoke cleared, the man was gone, his voice echoing like a curse through the silence he left behind.
It was a lingering whisper: "The Moonblood awakens. and when she does, she will choose."
Rosa's light dimmed slowly, leaving her shaking, her body weak but alive. Marshal caught her before she could fall against him, his arms hard and warm around her. She could hear his heartbeat thudding beneath her cheek.
"I told you not to let go," he said quietly.
Her voice was barely a whisper. "What does he mean--choose?"
Marshal's face darkened, but his tone was soft. "It means your blood remembers something mine would rather forget."
She raised her eyes to his, filled with confusion and fear. "And what if I don't want to remember?"
He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face; the touch was achingly gentle. "Then I'll carry it for you. Until you're ready."
Distant growls echoed again from above, this time closer. The lights flickered and the earth trembled.
Marshal's eyes flickered up to the ceiling, then back down to her. "They aren't finished," he whispered. "And the next time, they won't stop with just taking your blood.
Rosa swallowed, her fear coiling tight in her chest. "Then what will they come for?" Marshal's gaze held on her lips for a fraction of a second before he responded. "For your heart."
The words hung there between them, heavier than any threat. As the shadows above them started to shift once more, so did Rosa know this war had just begun.