The shields started failing just before sunset.

At first, nobody noticed.

The silver barrier stretched across the Blackwood borders like faint moonlight woven through the forest, flickering softly between the trees while patrol wolves changed shifts along the outer ridges.

Then the western wall vanished for three full seconds.

Every wolf in Blackwood felt it instantly.

That cold drop in the air.

That sudden absence.

Like the kingdom had stopped breathing.

Killian looked up from the war table the exact moment the alarm bells started ringing.

The council chamber erupted immediately.

“Western barrier collapse!”

“How long?”

“Three seconds!”

“Was it an attack?”

Marcus was already moving before anyone finished speaking.

Killian stayed still for one second longer, staring at the shifting map spread across the table while something ugly settled low in his chest.

Not surprise.

Recognition.

Tanya.

Of course.

One of the younger council wolves turned toward him anxiously.

“Alpha, what are your orders?”

Killian was already walking toward the doors.

“Seal the lower vaults.”

Marcus looked over sharply.

The realization hit both of them at the same time.

The Crescent Stone.

Shit.

The corridors beneath Blackwood had dissolved into chaos by the time they reached the western crypts. Guards sprinted past carrying silver weapons while distant warning bells echoed through the castle hard enough to shake dust from the ceiling beams.

Someone had already opened the vault.

Killian smelled blood before he even stepped inside.

The massive stone doors stood half-open beneath flickering blue runes, and a dead guard lay collapsed near the entrance with his chest split open deep enough to expose bone.

Marcus crouched beside the body first.

“Still warm.”

Killian barely looked at him.

His attention had already shifted toward the center pedestal.

Empty.

The silver chains lay broken across the floor.

The Crescent Stone was gone.

For a moment nobody spoke.

The silence inside the vault felt heavier than the storm outside.

Then Marcus swore quietly beneath his breath.

“She actually did it.”

Killian’s jaw tightened hard enough to ache.

He should’ve killed Tanya the moment she poisoned the council routes.

Should’ve snapped her neck before she ever reached the cells.

Instead he hesitated.

Again.

Because somewhere deep beneath all the rage and humiliation and betrayal, part of him still remembered the girl who used to stand beside him during ceremonies smiling like she belonged there.

That weakness just cost Blackwood its defenses.

A low vibration rolled through the floor beneath their feet.

The shields flickered again.

Longer this time.

Marcus stood immediately.

“We’re out of time.”

Killian finally looked up.

The expression on his face made the Beta’s stomach drop slightly.

Too calm.

Killian only got this calm when something inside him had already decided how much blood was about to spill.

“Get the border captains to the south ridge,” he said.

Marcus frowned.

“Only the south?”

“They’ll attack there first.”

“How do you know?”

Because Tanya always preferred dramatic entrances.

Because Richard would want the fastest route into Blackwood.

Because the southern forests were closest to the old vampire territories.

And because if the rogues pushed too far south—

Eventually they would start finding traces of Eva.

Killian couldn’t let that happen.

Not under any circumstances.

Marcus studied him carefully.

“You’re thinking about her again.”

Killian didn’t answer.

The silence was enough.

The Beta exhaled slowly through his nose.

“Killian…”

“No outside packs.”

Marcus blinked.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“That’s insane.”

Probably.

Didn’t matter.

Marcus stepped closer while thunder shook the vault overhead.

“We don’t have the numbers to hold the borders alone if the Bloodfang coalition moves tonight.”

“They’re moving tonight.”

Marcus went still.

“You’re sure?”

Killian looked toward the shattered chains lying across the stone floor.

“Tanya wouldn’t steal the Crescent Stone just to wait.”

The realization spread across Marcus’s face slowly.

The Blood Moon coup had started early.

And Blackwood wasn’t ready.

“Then we need reinforcements now,” Marcus said sharply. “Northern packs. Ironfang. Hell, even the western clans would answer if—”

“No.”

Marcus stared at him.

Actually stared.

Like he’d finally lost his fucking mind.

“Killian.”

“No one outside Blackwood gets involved.”

“Why?”

The question hung between them.

Killian looked away first.

Bad sign.

Marcus felt his chest tighten slightly because suddenly he already knew the answer before hearing it.

Eva.

Always Eva.

If the outside Alphas entered the war, eventually someone would uncover the truth about her.

Hybrid.

Ancient blood.

Half wolf. Half vampire.

The kind of existence kingdoms went to war over.

Killian’s voice came rougher this time.

“They don’t get near her.”

Marcus closed his eyes briefly.

God.

This was bad.

Not because Killian loved her.

That part was obvious already.

The problem was that he’d reached the point where he valued her safety over Blackwood itself.

Over the kingdom.

Over survival.

That kind of devotion turned kings into dangerous men.

Another violent tremor shook the vault.

The shields flickered overhead again, weaker this time.

Marcus looked toward the ceiling.

“They’re already testing the barriers.”

Killian nodded once.

Then started walking toward the armory.

The sky above Blackwood had changed by the time they emerged from the lower crypts.

The moon still hung silver over the mountains—

But red had started bleeding slowly across its surface.

Not natural.

Never natural.

The Blood Moon was arriving too fast.

Wolves filled the castle courtyard preparing for war while servants rushed supplies toward the walls. Silver arrows. Iron traps. Medical kits. Fuel barrels.

Fear moved through the pack like wildfire.

Killian could smell it everywhere.

Sweat.

Adrenaline.

Panic.

The younger wolves kept glancing toward the failing shields overhead like they expected the sky itself to collapse on top of them.

Marcus followed Killian across the courtyard.

“You need sleep.”

Killian ignored him.

“You’ve barely stopped moving in three days.”

Still nothing.

“And if you walk into this fight exhausted, Richard will kill you.”

That finally made Killian stop.

Rain started falling again.

Cold drops sliding through his hair while wolves hurried around them carrying silver crates toward the battlements.

Killian looked toward the southern forest beyond the gates.

Dark.

Waiting.

“He won’t get the chance,” he said quietly.

Marcus hated the sound of that sentence immediately.

Not confidence.

Acceptance.

Like Killian had already decided tonight ended badly and simply stopped caring.

“You’re talking like someone marching toward an execution.”

Killian’s mouth twitched once.

Humorless.

“Maybe I am.”

The Beta stared at him in disbelief.

“You can’t seriously be planning to hold the southern border yourself.”

Killian didn’t answer quickly enough.

Marcus swore.

“Jesus Christ.”

“If Richard pushes through Blackwood,” Killian said, “he’ll eventually start searching beyond the southern territories.”

“And?”

Killian finally looked at him.

That was enough.

Marcus understood instantly.

Eva.

Again.

Always her.

Killian would rather die in the forest than risk the rogues crossing into her territory.

The realization sat heavily between them while the rain worsened overhead.

Marcus rubbed a hand across his face slowly.

“She’ll never forgive you.”

Killian looked away toward the crimson-stained moon.

“I know.”

“And you’d still do this?”

“Yes.”

No hesitation.

None.

That part scared Marcus most.

Killian continued walking toward the armory before the conversation could go any further.

Inside, silver weapons lined the walls beneath flickering torchlight while armor racks stood half-empty from the rapid mobilization happening across the castle.

Killian ignored most of it.

Axes.

Spears.

Crossbows.

None of those mattered tonight.

His gaze settled instead on the execution blade hanging alone at the far end of the chamber.

Long silver steel.

Curved slightly near the tip.

Ancient Blackwood weaponry forged specifically for Alpha executions.

Killian reached for it slowly.

The silver hissed against his skin immediately.

Smoke curled faintly around his fingers.

He didn’t react.

Marcus watched from the doorway.

“You haven’t used that thing since the eastern rebellion.”

Killian pulled the blade free.

Metal rang softly through the armory.

Heavy.

Familiar.

Violent.

“It’ll do.”

The moon outside darkened another shade deeper red.

Somewhere beyond the walls, wolves began howling across the forest.

Not Blackwood wolves.

Rogues.

Thousands of them.

Killian strapped the execution blade across his back while thunder rolled above the castle.

Then he started toward the doors.

Marcus moved after him immediately.

“Where are you going?”

“The woods.”

“Alone?”

Killian paused near the entrance.

Rain blew through the open doorway behind him, cold wind lifting the dark strands of hair falling across his forehead while the red moonlight sharpened the exhaustion carved into his face.

For the first time all night, he looked less like a king and more like a man running out of things left to lose.

“If they reach her,” he said quietly, “they won’t stop hunting.”

Marcus swallowed hard.

Because there it was.

The truth underneath everything.

This wasn’t strategy anymore.

This was obsession.

The fatal kind.

Killian stepped into the storm before Marcus could answer.

The silver execution blade rested across his back while the crimson moon bled slowly over Blackwood above him.

And somewhere deep in the southern wilderness—

Something ancient had already started waking up.