The Blood Moon rose over Blackwood like an open wound.

By the time the first war horn sounded through the southern forest, every wolf on the border already knew the shields were failing.

You could feel it in the air.

That wrongness.

That hollow space where protection used to be.

Killian stood at the front trench with rain sliding down the side of his face while Blackwood soldiers rushed around him carrying silver spears and oil barrels through knee-deep mud.

The southern gates behind them had already been sealed.

No retreat.

No second line.

Just forest.

Storm.

And whatever was coming through those trees.

Marcus climbed down into the trench beside him, breathing hard.

“Scouts confirmed movement across all three ridges.”

“How many?”

The Beta hesitated.

Killian looked at him once.

“Say it.”

“Thousands.”

The answer settled heavily between them.

Thunder rolled overhead.

Somewhere farther down the trench, a younger wolf started quietly praying under his breath while checking silver rounds with shaking hands.

Killian looked toward the forest again.

Too dark.

The Blood Moon painted everything red enough to make the trees look soaked in fresh blood.

His wolf paced violently beneath his skin.

Not fear.

Preparation.

The kind that came right before violence exploded.

Marcus lowered his voice.

“Last chance to call the northern packs.”

“No.”

“Killian—”

“No.”

The Beta exhaled sharply through his nose.

“You’re going to get these people killed.”

Killian’s jaw tightened slightly.

“They’re already dead if the rogues break through.”

Marcus looked like he wanted to argue again.

Then the forest moved.

Every wolf in the trench went still instantly.

Branches cracked somewhere beyond the tree line.

Then came the growling.

Low at first.

Then louder.

Then everywhere.

The rogues hit the southern border all at once.

Black shapes burst through the forest like a wave breaking against stone while Blackwood archers opened fire from the trenches above.

Silver arrows tore through the rain.

Bodies dropped.

More kept coming.

“LEFT SIDE!”

“MOVE!”

“SHIELDS UP!”

The battlefield dissolved into noise immediately.

Mud exploded beneath running wolves while silver traps snapped shut around rogue legs hard enough to tear bone apart. Screams ripped through the storm from every direction.

Killian moved before the first rogue even reached the trench.

The execution blade flashed once through the rain.

Silver steel cut clean through a charging wolf’s throat.

Blood sprayed across Killian’s chest.

Another rogue hit him from the side.

Killian caught the wolf mid-lunge and drove silver upward beneath the jaw hard enough to split the skull open.

No hesitation.

No wasted movement.

Just violence.

The trench line started collapsing farther east.

Too many rogues.

They were bypassing Blackwood defenses too cleanly.

Using hidden routes.

Supply tunnels.

Old patrol gaps.

Tanya had given them everything.

Marcus slammed an axe into a rogue’s chest nearby and shouted over the storm.

“They know the trenches!”

Killian already realized that.

A second wave suddenly surged through the lower forest from the western ridge, avoiding the traps entirely.

Wrong route.

Only Blackwood leadership knew that path existed.

Killian’s expression darkened instantly.

“Tanya.”

A massive rogue lunged toward him before he could say more.

Killian sidestepped the attack and buried the execution blade through the wolf’s ribs hard enough to split him nearly in half before kicking the body back into the mud.

More came immediately.

Always more.

The Bloodfang coalition fought differently than ordinary packs.

No discipline.

No structure.

Just brutality and numbers and enough violence to drown organized defense under pure exhaustion.

Killian could already feel the battlefield shifting against them.

Too many gaps opening.

Too many wounded.

And still the rogues kept pushing deeper.

Then a horn echoed through the forest.

Long.

Heavy.

The sound rolled across the battlefield slowly enough to make even the rogue wolves hesitate.

Marcus looked up sharply.

“Shit.”

The trees parted.

Alpha Richard stepped through the storm like something carved out of the forest itself.

Huge.

Scarred.

Black fur armor hanging from his shoulders while the giant battle-axe resting across one shoulder dripped rainwater and old blood into the mud beneath his boots.

Even from across the battlefield, Killian could feel the pressure coming off him.

Ancient Alpha.

Violent Alpha.

The kind built for war instead of leadership.

Richard’s remaining eye settled directly on Killian.

Then slowly drifted lower toward the scar on his throat.

The rogue Alpha smiled.

Ugly thing.

Predatory.

“There he is.”

Killian stepped out from the trench line without looking away from him.

Rain soaked through his black coat almost instantly.

“Richard.”

The rogue Alpha laughed softly.

“You look worse than the rumors.”

Killian said nothing.

Richard planted the battle-axe into the mud with a heavy thud before glancing toward the burning tree line behind the Blackwood defenses.

“Tanya was right,” he said casually. “Your borders really are rotting from the inside.”

Killian’s grip tightened slightly around the execution blade.

“She sold you bad information.”

“Did she?”

Richard’s smile widened.

“Seems pretty useful so far.”

The battlefield behind them continued raging while the two Alphas stood facing each other beneath the Blood Moon.

Neither moved first.

That part almost felt respectful.

Then Richard ruined it.

“You know what she promised me?”

Killian stayed silent.

The rogue Alpha tilted his head slightly.

“Eva Frost.”

The name hit harder than any blade.

Killian’s wolf surged so violently beneath his skin it almost hurt.

Richard noticed immediately.

Interest sharpened across his scarred face.

“Oh,” he murmured. “That got your attention.”

Killian moved.

Fast enough to blur through the rain.

The execution blade crashed against Richard’s axe hard enough to shake the ground beneath them while nearby wolves stumbled backward from the force of the impact alone.

Richard laughed.

Actually laughed.

“There he is.”

Killian attacked again immediately.

Silver flashed through the storm.

Richard barely blocked in time before Killian drove the blade toward his throat hard enough to force the larger Alpha backward through the mud.

No restraint left now.

No strategy.

Just fury.

Richard swung the battle-axe sideways.

Killian ducked beneath it and buried silver deep into the rogue Alpha’s shoulder.

Blood exploded across the rain.

Richard roared.

Then grinned through it.

“Good.”

He slammed his forehead into Killian’s face hard enough to split skin.

Pain burst across Killian’s nose.

Didn’t matter.

He drove the execution blade across Richard’s ribs in return.

Both Alphas crashed through the battlefield tearing trenches into the mud while wolves scattered from their path.

Killian’s breathing roughened.

Not from exhaustion.

From rage.

Eva’s name still echoed through his skull.

Richard blocked another strike and leaned closer through the storm.

“She alive?”

Killian slammed silver toward his throat.

Richard caught the blade handle with one hand.

Strong bastard.

The rogue Alpha’s grin returned slowly.

“She is alive.”

Not a question.

A realization.

Killian saw it happen.

Saw the exact second Richard understood why Blackwood never called reinforcements.

Why Killian was willing to die at the southern border instead of retreating deeper into pack territory.

Because this wasn’t about Blackwood anymore.

It was about keeping the rogues away from her.

Richard laughed harder.

“Oh, that’s fucking tragic.”

Killian headbutted him hard enough to crack teeth.

Richard staggered once.

Then suddenly shouted:

“NOW!”

The forest exploded around them.

Heavy silver nets launched from hidden trenches Killian never saw buried beneath the mud.

One wrapped around his shoulders instantly.

Silver burned through his skin like acid.

Killian roared and slashed through part of the net—

Too slow.

A second crashed into him from behind.

Then a third.

The weight drove him hard into the mud beneath the Blood Moon while silver chains tightened around his chest and arms.

Pain detonated through his body instantly.

Pure silver.

Too much of it.

His wolf snarled violently beneath his skin while smoke curled from the burns spreading across his shoulders and ribs.

Marcus shouted something nearby.

Killian barely heard it over the ringing in his skull.

Richard walked toward him slowly through the rain.

No rush anymore.

The battle-axe dragged behind him through the mud.

“You know,” the rogue Alpha said, breathing hard, “Tanya told me you’d probably die screaming her name.”

Killian forced himself onto one knee despite the silver crushing against his spine.

Blood ran from his mouth onto the mud beneath him.

Richard stopped directly in front of him.

The giant axe lifted slowly.

Heavy enough to split a horse in half.

Rain slid down the scarred side of the rogue Alpha’s face while the crimson moon burned overhead.

“So?” Richard asked softly.

The axe settled against Killian’s throat.

Cold silver.

Sharp enough to bite skin immediately.

“Was she worth it?”

Killian looked up at him through blood and rain.

Then laughed quietly.

Not because anything was funny.

Because even now—

Even half-dead beneath silver chains—

The answer still felt easy.

“Yes.”

Richard stared at him for one long second.

Then the rogue Alpha’s smile faded slightly.

Because suddenly he understood something dangerous.

Killian Vance wasn’t fighting to survive anymore.

He was fighting like a man who had already chosen what mattered most—

And accepted the cost of losing everything else.