The beginning of a new moon….
…..
Elena lay unmoving in Lorenzo's arms.
The battlefield, once a storm of blood and shadow, was quiet now. The scent of iron and ash hung thick, but it no longer carried fear. Only relief. And something heavier , the weight of what had just been survived.
The witch crawled across the scorched earth, broken, bleeding, her magic shattered like shattered glass underfoot. Her pale, wrinkled hands scraped the soil as though it could give her some fleeting strength. But it could not.
Lorenzo rose slowly, massive, golden eyes burning with unrestrained fury ,and then flickered to pure white as his wolf fully shifted within him, controlled yet ready, lethal yet protective.
"You don't get to run," he said quietly, but every word carried the force of mountains.
Around him, other Alphas emerged from the shadows of the united packs. Northern, River, Shadow Ridge ,their weapons lowered, eyes alert, but unthreatening. They waited, not for war, but for the moment the balance could be restored.
Marcus stepped forward, voice sharp and unwavering. "This war ends now."
The witch laughed, a rasping, broken sound. "You think killing me fixes anything?" Her voice was raw, bitter, trembling, but she had lost the arrogance of before. "You think power can erase centuries of vengeance?"
Elena's fingers twitched against Lorenzo's chest. Her breath came in shallow gasps. The silver light beneath her skin , her wolf's essence , pulsed faintly, ebbing as her control returned.
And then, slowly, deliberately, she drew a full, trembling breath.
Her eyes opened ,soft, human, alive. Golden sun glinting across silver moonlight, raw and serene.
Lorenzo's breath hitched. Then broke. A sob caught in his chest, half relief, half awe, half the feral gratitude that only a wolf could feel. He felt her pulse against him, the warmth of life, the living heartbeat that had carried them through death itself.
She pushed herself upright, leaning into him for balance. "No more killing," she whispered, voice steady yet filled with strength. Her wolf receded but left her radiance behind, a reminder of what she was capable of.
The Goddess's presence faded like the dawn creeping across the horizon, leaving behind a sense of quiet justice and enduring power.
Elena's gaze snapped to the witch. Calm. Steady. Merciless. "You will be bound," she said, her voice now carrying the authority of the White Wolf. "Stripped of every ounce of power. Left to live with what you've done… and to face the consequences of your choices."
The witch screamed, her voice tearing the air as threads of magic, stolen life, dark necromancy, centuries of malevolence ,were ripped from her body. She writhed, tried to strike back, but the bonds Elena wove were precise, unbreakable, divine in their purpose. Her limbs stiffened. Her screams became shrill. And then, silence.
All at once, the Blood Moon cracked and dimmed, the night turning soft, gentle, golden with dawn.
The packs bowed , not to Lorenzo. Not to brute strength, not to intimidation, not to the Alpha's power alone.
They bowed to Elena.
The White Wolf. The Luna,chosen by the moon goddess . The mate who had not only survived but had risen to equal and transcend the Alpha's power.
Lorenzo's arms wrapped around her, pressing his forehead to hers. Warm, human, fierce, and tender. He breathed her in ,scent, life, victory, love , all entwined.
"The world almost ended," he murmured, voice hoarse and rough with emotion.
She smiled faintly, leaning against him, silver light glimmering along her skin like soft dawn. "But it didn't," she said. "Not because of me alone. Because of us."
For the first time, she felt whole. For the first time, Lorenzo knew he had found his equal, someone who could fight, who could endure, who could challenge him, who could love him with the fire of a White Wolf.
The war was over. The witch's vengeance had been stopped. The undead were gone. And the packs , once fractured, wary, skeptical? now stood united under two leaders: Alpha Lorenzo and his Luna, Elena.
A new era had begun. One built on balance, strength, and the unyielding bond between wolf and mate.
And somewhere, deep in the forest beyond sight, the winds whispered of legends to come. The White Wolf had risen. And nothing would ever be the same.