The night had grown heavy, a thick darkness that pressed down over Gonzalo's fortress. The corridors were dimly lit by the occasional torch, its flame dancing and casting long shadows across stone walls.
Even the guards seemed subdued, lulled into a sense of calm by the stillness that clung to every tower and gate. In her chamber, Vanya slept peacefully, the soft rise and fall of her chest masking the storm that was about to unfold.
Outside, the forest surrounding the rogue camp rustled with calculated whispers. Liora had planned this carefully, leaving no trace that might alert Gonzalo until it was far too late. Dante's rogues moved like invisible themselves—silent, mastered, with every step measured against the crunch of leaves and snap of twigs. Each rogue had been trained for moments like this: to slip through enemy territory, bypass guards, and leave no sign of their presence behind.
At the edge of the forest, Liora adjusted the strap of her bow and signaled with a single nod. The rogues froze, blending into the dark like smoke curling around the trees. The camp of Gonzalo's pack lay ahead, quiet but heavily guarded. Patrols moved along the perimeter, but the rogues had studied their pattern, noting each pause, each routine, and the places where shadows fell naturally, hiding men and movement alike.
Liora crouched low, feeling the cold bite of the earth beneath her palms. Her heart beat steadily, not with fear but with anticipation. Every muscle in her body was coiled, ready to spring. This wasn't merely a mission, it was the fulfillment of a promise she had made to herself. Vanya had caused too much suffering, too much pain, and Liora would ensure that the scales were balanced.
Dante whispered next to her, his voice calm, commanding. "Remember, no unnecessary confrontation. Speed and discretion are our weapons."
Liora nodded. "I've watched them for months. I know the guards, the shifts, the blind spots. Vanya won't even hear us until it's too late."
The rogues began their approach. They moved like phantoms across the open courtyard, slipping past the sentries with practiced ease. One rogue, small and wiry, unclipped the latch on the back of the Luna's chamber door. The hinges creaked just enough to draw Liora's attention, but the movement was deliberate, controlled.
Inside the room, Vanya remained in deep sleep, unaware of the figures moving in. Her breathing was steady, peaceful, almost mocking in its innocence. Liora's hand rested lightly on the hilt of a short blade, but it was more a measure of reassurance than a preparation for battle. There would be no fight here. This was precision, not chaos.
The rogues lifted Vanya gently from her bed, careful not to wake her prematurely. Liora's eyes scanned the room, noting every window, every curtain, every potential path of pursuit. The rogue carrying Vanya stepped lightly, the Luna's limp form cradled expertly across his shoulders. Another rogue closed the door softly behind them, leaving no trace, no alarm.
As they moved through the corridors, Liora's mind remained sharp, calculating. She imagined Gonzalo now, perhaps sleeping in his chambers, confident that his Luna was safe under his watch. She allowed herself a small, private smile, though it was bitter.
Meanwhile, Gonzalo stirred in his chambers. He had sensed something, an unease, a flicker in his instincts but had brushed it aside. He was tired, restless from the long days of strategizing, the months of preparing for attacks that never came, and the gnawing thought of Liora, the one who he felt had betrayed him, lingering always in the back of his mind.
He frowned, he thought his wolf could perceive Liora's…
A shiver ran down his spine, a primal warning that he had trained himself to trust. Something was wrong. His eyes snapped open, and for a heartbeat, the weight of dread settled over him.
He leapt from his bed, muscles tense, heart hammering. "Something's… wrong…Liora is here," he muttered, scanning the room, every sense alert. He moved to the door, flinging it open to see nothing but empty hallways and the dim torchlight flickering.
"Guards!" he roared, his voice reverberating through the stone halls. "Check every corridor! Sweep the perimeter! Now!"
The soldiers scrambled, shouting as they ran, but the realization hit him before they could return with answers. Gonzalo's wolf senses, heightened through years of training, began to flare. He could feel a disturbance, a shift in the air, the faint scent of foreign presence lingering like smoke after a fire.
His gaze narrowed, eyes darting to the window where the night stretched dark and endless. The feeling of violation clawed at his chest. Something, someone…was missing.
By the time he had raced down the stairs and reached the outer halls, it was too late. The rogue pack had vanished into the night, Vanya already far from the walls of his fortress. The air still bore her faint scent, just enough to confirm his worst fear. Gonzalo's pulse thundered in his ears.
His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms. He could hear only his own breathing, ragged and harsh, the first hints of panic beginning to surface despite his years of control.
Vanya's chamber stood empty. The bed was disheveled, her personal items untouched. Every moment of hesitation, every second he had spent doubting the instincts gnawing at him, now felt like betrayal to his own senses.
The guards returned, eyes wide, confusion and fear mirrored on their faces. Gonzalo's voice cut through the panic, sharp and lethal. "Where is she?" he demanded.
"They… we don't know, Alpha. We checked every—"
"Enough!" he snapped, slamming his fist on the table. The sound reverberated like a gunshot. "She's gone. My Luna… taken. This is the height of it."
A chill ran through the fortress. The weight of failure pressed on every man present. Gonzalo's mind raced, plotting, calculating, trying to envision the route the rogues had taken, trying to imagine how Liora had orchestrated this, even from a distance.
He sank into a chair, jaw tight, eyes dark with fury. The maps lay in front of him, a chaotic spread of possible paths, each one taunting him with failure. Gonzalo's wolf howled within him, the instinct to hunt, track, and reclaim rising to the surface. But even as it roared, logic battled with rage. Liora had planned this meticulously. They had moved like shadows, leaving nothing behind, and he knew it.
His gaze settled on the empty space where Vanya had slept, the soft blankets now cold and untouched. The realization burned like fire: by the time he had awakened, the rogues had succeeded.
"Alpha?" one of his trusted lieutenants ventured cautiously. "What… what do we do?"
Gonzalo rose, jaw tight, eyes storming with fury. He moved to the window and stared into the night, the darkness stretching endless and mocking. "Liora took her," he said, voice low and lethal. "with the help of Dante… they will learn why the Alpha's wrath is absolute."
Every muscle in his body was taut, every thought sharpened to a blade. The sensation of helplessness, though brief, had ignited a fire. Vanya's abduction was more than a threat, it was an insult, a challenge to his power, and a declaration that his enemies were bold enough to strike at the heart of his pack.
Deep inside, another fire stirred, one buried beneath layers of pride and anger. Liora had done this. She had orchestrated it. And the thought that she had succeeded… that she had outsmarted him… it was a sting that cut deeper than any blade.
He turned to the generals and guards surrounding him, their faces pale with dread. "Prepare every tracker. I want every path searched, every shadow followed. Liora's rogues will pay for this…I will kill her myself."
The men nodded, fear and respect tangled in their expressions. They understood the weight of the task and the wrath it would invoke.
Outside, the forest stretched wide and unforgiving, silent witnesses to the silent theft that had just occurred. Vanya, unconscious but unharmed, lay cradled in the arms of the rogues as they moved swiftly through the night. Liora's plan had succeeded flawlessly.
And in the heart of Gonzalo's fortress, the Alpha's fury began to solidify into a single, deadly purpose: no one, not rogue nor traitor, would ever dare challenge him and live to tell the tale.
But as the winds whispered through the trees and the distant mountains caught the first hints of dawn, one truth was undeniable: Liora had taken his Luna.