Alpha Roland pov.
The war alarm had ceased, replaced by the guttural snarls of wolves and the sharp, snapping sound of suppressed magic.
Roland stood on the balcony overlooking the main defensive line, a ridge of black granite where his Sentinels were meeting the first wave of the invasion.
He wore no armor, only a dark, heavy combat shirt and trousers, his scent mixing cold stone and pure adrenaline.
"Status report!"
Roland barked into his comms.
"The rogues are breaking, Alpha," Gideon's voice sliced through the static.
"They're disorganized, clearly paid mercenaries.
But the witches are holding back.
They're not engaging the line, they're testing it."
Roland knew the Coven wouldn't waste high-level magic on a skirmish.
They had a singular, immediate goal: Elara.
"Cassian, pull back the perimeter to the secondary choke points," Roland commanded.
"Give them a path. Make them think they're winning the field, but hold the manor gates at all costs.
We draw the attention away from the East Wing."
Every decision was a calculated risk. He was intentionally exposing parts of his territory to save the one person who mattered.
His wolf howled internally, consumed by the agonizing pull toward the East Wing, demanding he return to his mate and secure her himself.
He forced the feral instinct down, focusing on the coordinates on the map.
The lie is the shield. I must protect the shield.
He watched as a rogue wolf, massive and desperate, tried to bypass the line.
Before it could take two steps toward the main house, a Sentinel's shadow detached from the trees and dealt a swift, silent, lethal blow.
Roland allowed himself a moment of grim satisfaction.
His pack was the shadow itself.unseen, uncompromising.
But the witches weren't interested in his pack.
They were interested in power, and they knew exactly where the source was housed.
Elara pov.
The war howl had jolted Elara into action.
She moved instinctively, her hands flying to the hem of her simple tunic and ripping off a section of cloth, which she immediately wrapped tightly around her silver pendant.
She couldn't risk the metal touching her bare skin again; the power was too unstable.
Cassian's warning not to move was a direct Alpha order, but the knowledge that Roland was fighting his heart out on the perimeter to maintain the lie of her weakness made obedience impossible.
She had to get out, and she couldn't risk the main door, where the Sentinels were guarding.
Elara moved to the fireplace, retrieving the history book she had hidden. She opened it to the page with the elemental symbols: Wave, Flame, Breeze, Earth.
The four sources of Moonfall power.
She realized the East Wing wasn't just a random cage; it was ancient construction.
The massive stone hearth wasn't just decorative; it was a node.
Concentrating fiercely, Elara pressed the wrapped pendant against the stone of the hearth.
She didn't seek chaotic power; she sought control.
She channeled the single element she felt most connected to, the one that resonated with the cold stone of Roland's pack: Earth.
Give me stability. Give me a passage
.
The pendant pulsed beneath the cloth.
Instead of an explosion, there was a profound, grinding rumble.
A large section of the hearth's stone paneling, exactly where she had pressed the pendant, swung inward on hidden hinges, revealing a dark, tight passage that smelled of subterranean dust and ancient magic.
Roland built this house around me, she thought, a fresh wave of devotion and disbelief hitting her.
He had prepared an escape route for the hybrid he claimed was irrelevant.
She slipped into the passage, pulling the stone panel shut behind her.
The air was cold and still. She followed the tight, downward slope until she emerged into a low-ceilinged wine cellar, hundreds of feet from the manor's main structure.
She was outside the immediate guarded perimeter.
She was free. And now, she needed a weapon.
Elara moved toward the open archway of the cellar, ready to face the forest.
But she wasn't alone.
A dark figure stood blocking the exit, his scent a storm of desperation and raw, burning ambition. It was Thane, Richard's Beta.
He hadn't left; he had been hiding, tracking, and waiting for the moment Roland's defenses were occupied.
"The worthless slave found the hidden path," Thane sneered, his wolf eyes gleaming in the dark. "Richard knew you were the key.
The Moonfall hybrid. But he never managed to draw out the power. I will."
Thane lunged, morphing mid-air into a massive, snarling wolf.
Elara didn't scream. She didn't run. She stood her ground, clutching the pendant, and let the sheer, primal force of Roland's training.the dominance of the mate bond, the Alpha order to fight override her fear.
She focused on the fire burning in her own gut, the heat the salve had intensified.
Fire.
I need fire.
A bolt of intense, localized heat, not flames, but a white-hot, kinetic surge erupted from her, blasting Thane sideways and slamming him hard into a rack of aging wine bottles.
He hit the stone wall with a sickening crack before falling back to the floor, stunned and shifting back into his human form, clutching a broken arm.
Elara stood panting, the smell of burnt air and scorched wolf fur filling the cellar.
She had not shifted, but she had fought.
"You're too late, Beta," she hissed, her voice shaking but steady.
"I'm not his slave. I am his mate."
She left Thane whimpering amidst the broken glass and sprinted out of the cellar and into the forest, running toward the sounds of the distant explosions.
Alpha Roland pov.
Roland felt the distant, localized spike of uncontrolled kinetic fire magic coming from the mansion grounds
.
It was too close to ignore.
"Report that energy spike!" he roared into the comms.
Cassian's voice came back strained.
"Alpha!
Thane is down near the old South Cellar, his arm shattered.
He reports that Luna engaged him.
She has breached the East Wing perimeter!"
Roland felt a crushing wave of despair and savage pride.
The Alpha was furious at the disobedience; the mate was ecstatic at her survival.
"Beta, get back to the manor now! Secure her location!"
"Too late, Alpha!" Gideon shouted, the sound of explosions now deafening. "The witches!
They used the rogue attack as cover.
The main Coven force has bypassed the defense lines and is now descending on the manor, ignoring the fighting!
They know she's free!
They're coming for her!"
Roland looked at the map. He was too far away.
The Coven's main force was a few hundred yards from the manor's exposed gardens.
They were moving faster than anything he'd prepared for.
His strategic mind collapsed. Only the wolf remained.
He ripped the comms from his wrist, letting them fall to the ground.
"All Sentinels!" Roland's final command was a terrifying roar that carried over the battlefield without aid of technology.
"Forget the perimeter!
Defend Luna!"
He shifted, the sound of his bones grinding a horrifying symphony of power.
The Devil of the Shadowlands, in the form of a monstrous black wolf with eyes of liquid gold, broke cover and began the frantic, terrifying sprint back to the manor, directly into the path of the incoming witch attack.
Elara has survived her first test, using her emergent fire magic against Richard's Beta, but her escape has exposed her to the main Coven force which is now rushing the manor.
Roland has abandoned his post to save his mate.