The world exploded into chaos.
One moment we were standing by the stream, the morning sun filtering through the trees. The next, the air was filled with the clash of steel, the snarl of wolves, the screams of the wounded and dying.
Caleb moved in front of me, his body a solid wall of muscle and fury. I saw his hands shift, claws extending, eyes blazing gold as his wolf surged to the surface. He didn't shift completely—there wasn't time—but he was more beast than man, and he was terrifying.
"Stay behind me!" he roared, even as he launched himself at the nearest Red Claw attacker.
I pressed my back against a tree, my heart pounding so hard I could barely breathe. My hands were shaking, useless. I had no weapon, no training. I was a healer, not a fighter. What was I supposed to do?
Finn fought nearby, his sword flashing as he held off two attackers at once. He was young, but he was fierce, and I watched him take down one of them with a brutal strike to the throat. The other faltered, and Finn pressed his advantage.
But there were too many. They kept coming, pouring from the trees like a dark tide. I saw one of our warriors fall, then another. The ground was turning red.
Caleb was everywhere at once, a whirlwind of claws and teeth. He took down three attackers in quick succession, but even as he fought, I could see him tiring. There were just too many.
"Elara!" His voice cut through the chaos. "Run! Get to the horses—go!"
I couldn't move. My legs wouldn't obey. All I could do was watch as he fought, as blood sprayed across his face, as he took a blow that would have killed a lesser man and kept fighting.
Then one of the Red Claw broke through.
He was huge, bigger than any of the others, with cold eyes and a scar running down his face. He moved past Caleb while the Beta was occupied, heading straight for me. His smile was cruel, hungry.
"The Luna," he breathed. "What a pretty prize."
I tried to run, but my feet tangled in the roots behind me. I fell, hard, the breath knocked from my lungs. He loomed over me, reaching down with hands that were already shifting into claws—
And then he wasn't there anymore.
Caleb had tackled him from the side, driving him away from me with a roar of fury. They crashed to the ground together, a tangle of limbs and claws and teeth. I watched, frozen, as they fought—Caleb's face twisted with rage, the other man's with desperate violence.
Caleb got the upper hand. His claws sank into the man's throat, and the Red Claw warrior went still.
But even as he stood, even as he turned back toward me, I saw the blood blooming on his side. A wound—deep, maybe fatal. He pressed his hand to it, his face going pale.
"Caleb!" I scrambled to my feet, running toward him.
But I never reached him.
Something hit me from behind—a blow to the head that sent stars exploding across my vision. I felt myself falling, felt arms catch me, heard Caleb's scream of rage and despair.
Then everything went black.
I woke to pain.
My head throbbed with every heartbeat, and my mouth tasted like copper. I was lying on something hard and cold—stone, maybe—and my hands were bound behind my back.
I forced my eyes open.
I was in a cave, lit by torches that flickered against rough stone walls. Shapes moved in the shadows—people, Red Claw warriors, watching me with hungry eyes. And in the center of the cave, seated on a crude throne of bones and hides, was a woman.
She was beautiful in the way a blade is beautiful—sharp, dangerous, made for killing. Her hair was dark as a raven's wing, her eyes pale gray, her lips curved in a smile that held no warmth.
"Ah," she said softly. "The little Luna wakes."
I tried to speak, but my throat was dry, my voice a croak.
She gestured, and someone brought water, pressing a cup to my lips. I drank greedily, then gasped for air.
"Where am I?" I managed. "Where are my people?"
"Your people." The woman laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "You mean the ones who were escorting you? Dead, most of them. The Beta might still be alive—he fought hard, your Caleb. But he won't last long without a healer." She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. "And you're not going to heal him."
My heart clenched with terror and despair. "Who are you?"
"I am Sera." She rose from her throne, moving toward me with fluid grace. "Leader of the Red Claw. And you, little Luna, are going to help me destroy your pack."
"Never." The word came out stronger than I felt. "I'll die first."
"Oh, I'm counting on it." Sera crouched in front of me, her face inches from mine. "But not before I've used you. Your Alpha will come for you—I know his type. He'll march his warriors right into my trap, and when he does, I'll be ready."
She reached out and touched my face, almost gently. "Such a pretty thing. No wonder he chose you. No wonder the Beta was so desperate to protect you." Her smile widened. "Tell me, little Luna—do they both want you? Is that why you're so special?"
I said nothing, just stared at her with all the hatred I could muster.
Sera laughed again. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
Hours passed. Or maybe minutes. Time lost meaning in that dark place.
I drifted in and out of consciousness, my head pounding, my wrists raw from the ropes. I thought about Damon—his arms around me, his rare smiles, the way he'd held me after the council meeting. I thought about Caleb—his blue eyes, his warmth, the way he'd thrown himself in front of me without hesitation.
Were they alive? Were they looking for me?
Please, I prayed to the moon. Please let them be alive.
Sera came and went, always with that cold smile, always with new threats and promises of pain. She wanted information—about Shadowfang's defenses, about Damon's plans, about the alliances we were building. I gave her nothing.
"You're brave," she said at one point, almost admiring. "I'll give you that. But bravery won't save you when I start cutting pieces off."
I believed her.
Sometime later—night, maybe, or just deeper darkness—I heard sounds from outside the cave. Shouting. The clash of weapons. My heart leaped.
They'd come. They'd found me.
The cave erupted into chaos as warriors poured in—not Red Claw, but Shadowfang, their faces painted for battle, their eyes blazing with fury. At their head was Caleb.
He was wounded, bleeding from a dozen cuts, but he moved like an avenging angel. He cut through the Red Claw guards with brutal efficiency, his eyes fixed on me.
"Elara!"
He reached me, dropped to his knees, and began sawing through my bonds with a knife. His hands were shaking, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"I thought you were dead," I whispered. "Sera said—"
"Sera's a liar." He pulled me into his arms, holding me so tight I could barely breathe. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I let them take you."
"You didn't let them. You fought." I pulled back just enough to look at him. "How did you find me?"
"Tracked you. Followed the blood trail." He touched my face, his thumb tracing along my cheek. "I would have followed you anywhere."
For a moment, the world stopped. There was just us, just his eyes on mine, just the weight of everything unspoken between us.
Then someone shouted—"They're regrouping!"—and the moment shattered.
Caleb pulled me to my feet. "Can you run?"
I nodded.
We ran.
Outside the cave, the night was chaos. Shadowfang warriors fought Red Claw in the moonlight, their bodies shifting between human and wolf forms. Blood soaked the ground. The air was thick with screams and snarls.
Caleb kept me close, his hand gripping mine, fighting off anyone who came near. He was magnificent—terrifying and beautiful, a warrior born.
We were almost to the trees, almost to safety, when I saw her.
Sera.
She stood on a rock outcropping, watching the battle with cold satisfaction. Her eyes found mine, and she smiled.
Then she raised her hand, and the world went white.
I woke in a bed.
Soft furs beneath me. The smell of herbs and woodsmoke. Familiar sounds—the crackle of a fire, the murmur of voices.
I was in my hut. In Shadowfang.
I tried to sit up, but hands pressed me gently back down. Marta, the healer, leaned over me, her face creased with worry.
"Easy, Luna. You've been through a lot."
"What happened?" My voice was a whisper. "Caleb—"
"He's alive." Marta's expression flickered. "Wounded, but alive. He brought you back himself. Refused to let anyone else carry you."
Relief flooded through me so powerfully that I started to cry. Marta clucked sympathetically and pressed a cup to my lips—something bitter that made me sleepy.
"Rest now," she said. "You're safe."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to see Caleb, to thank him, to make sure with my own eyes that he was okay. But the darkness pulled at me, and I couldn't fight it.
The last thing I saw before sleep took me was Damon's face, hovering above mine, his eyes red-rimmed and desperate.
"I'm here," he whispered. "I'm here, Elara. I've got you."
And then there was nothing.