Richard’s roar tore across the battlefield before the pain in his shattered arm had even settled.

“Kill her!”

The command came out ragged, wet with blood, but the rogues obeyed anyway because fear of their Alpha still outweighed fear of death.

Barely.

Dozens of rogue wolves charged through the mud at once, their bodies half-shifted beneath the crimson moonlight, claws ripping trenches into the soaked earth as they closed in around Eva from every direction.

Killian tried to stand fully.

His body refused.

Silver burns still smoked faintly across his chest and shoulders where the nets had pinned him down, and every breath dragged through his ribs like broken glass, but none of that mattered once he saw the rogues reaching for her.

His wolf surged violently beneath his skin.

Not fear.

Never fear.

Something uglier.

Possessiveness.

The same sickness that had been eating him alive since the moment she disappeared over that cliff.

Eva didn’t move.

Rain slid down the curve of her throat while the battlefield collapsed around her in screams and blood and panic, and somehow she still looked untouched by all of it, standing there in the middle of the storm with dark hair plastered against her pale shoulders and crimson eyes fixed lazily on the wolves rushing toward her.

Then she laughed.

Not loudly.

That was the problem.

The sound slipped softly through the battlefield, smooth and low and wrong in a way Killian couldn’t explain, almost as though another voice had moved beneath hers for half a second before disappearing again.

Every wolf near her slowed instinctively.

A few stopped completely.

One rogue actually whimpered.

Killian felt the reaction tear through his own spine.

His wolf recognized something ancient in that sound. Something that had nothing to do with vampires or wolves or kingdoms.

Something older.

Richard noticed the hesitation spreading through his front lines and snarled immediately.

“MOVE!”

The rogues lunged again.

Eva sighed through the rain like she was already bored of all this.

Then she lifted one hand.

The ground answered her instantly.

Black spikes erupted upward beneath the charging rogues with enough force to throw bodies into the air. Blood sprayed across the trees. Screams ripped through the forest while wolves crashed back into the mud missing limbs, jaws, entire sections of their torsos.

The smell hit a second later.

Blood.

Burned silver.

Open organs.

Marcus stared from the shattered trench line with genuine horror crossing his face for the first time that night.

“What the hell…”

Another rogue sprinted toward Eva from behind with silver blades strapped across both forearms.

He never reached her.

His body suddenly twisted sideways mid-run like invisible hands had grabbed his spine and wrung it apart.

The crack echoed sickeningly across the battlefield.

Killian saw several rogues recoil hard enough to lose their footing in the mud.

Good.

Let them panic.

Because once wolves started smelling fear inside their own pack, everything collapsed fast.

Richard clearly realized the same thing.

“Archers!” he barked. “NOW!”

Silver bolts flew from the cliffs.

Hundreds of them.

The storm lit up briefly with flashing silver tips racing through the rain straight toward Eva’s chest.

Killian’s pulse spiked so hard his vision blurred for half a second.

Then every bolt stopped in midair.

The battlefield went dead quiet.

Even the rain suddenly sounded distant.

The arrows hung suspended around Eva like trapped insects, unmoving beneath the crimson moonlight while blood magic flickered softly through the air around her fingers.

Eva tilted her head slightly as she studied the frozen silver bolts.

“You really thought this would work?”

Her wrist flicked once.

The arrows reversed instantly.

Screams exploded from the cliffs.

Rogue archers dropped one after another, silver punching clean through throats and skulls before their bodies rolled down the rocks into the battlefield below.

Nobody spoke.

Nobody moved.

Killian slowly dragged himself upright despite the pain tearing through his chest because he couldn’t stop watching her.

God.

Two years.

Two years of rage and grief and blood and guilt, and somehow none of it compared to seeing her like this.

Alive.

Beautiful.

Terrifying enough to make entire armies forget how to breathe.

Richard stepped backward before catching himself.

Tiny movement.

But Eva saw it.

So did every rogue around him.

Bad mistake.

Their Alpha suddenly looked uncertain.

That alone was enough to poison morale.

Richard’s jaw tightened furiously.

“You think this changes anything?” he shouted toward her. “You’re still outnumbered.”

Eva looked around at the battlefield slowly, almost thoughtful.

Then her gaze returned to him.

“Am I?”

The pressure in the air changed immediately after that.

Killian felt it first through the Mate Bond.

The temperature dropped.

The wind shifted.

And beneath all of it—

His wolf started pacing violently inside him.

Not because it wanted to attack.

Because it wanted to kneel.

Eva closed her eyes.

The storm around her exploded outward.

Black mist poured from beneath her skin while the crimson moon overhead darkened another shade deeper, bathing the battlefield in blood-colored light that made the dead wolves scattered across the mud look almost black.

The earth beneath her heels cracked apart.

Richard’s expression finally changed completely.

Fear.

Real fear.

“What are you doing?” he asked, quieter this time.

Eva opened her eyes again.

Crimson.

Burning.

And somewhere beneath the pale skin of her throat, ancient runes started glowing faintly beneath the surface like something waking up inside her body.

Killian stopped breathing.

Because he knew.

His wolf knew.

Whatever was about to happen—

It wasn’t vampire.

And it definitely wasn’t human.

The black aura around Eva detonated violently.

Her gown shredded apart into crimson ribbons swallowed by the storm while bone cracked loudly enough for wolves fifty feet away to hear it over the thunder.

Several rogues stumbled backward immediately.

One dropped his weapon.

Another started praying under his breath.

White fur burst through the darkness.

Not silver.

Not pale gray.

Pure white.

Blinding beneath the Blood Moon.

The transformation didn’t look painful.

That was the worst part.

It looked natural.

Like this body had always existed beneath her skin waiting for permission to emerge.

Larger.

And larger.

And larger.

The battlefield slowly disappeared beneath the size of her.

By the time the transformation finished, the giant wolf towering above the forest looked less like a creature and more like some ancient god dragged out of mythology.

White fur shimmered beneath the crimson sky with strands of silver light moving through it like moonlit rivers. Massive claws dug into the shattered earth while ancient runes pulsed faintly beneath the fur near her ribs and throat.

And her eyes—

God.

Those eyes.

Deep crimson burning against the storm.

Every wolf on the battlefield lowered themselves instinctively.

Even Blackwood soldiers.

Even Marcus.

Pure animal submission carved directly into instinct.

Killian remained standing somehow, though barely.

Not because the pressure didn’t affect him.

Because his wolf refused to bow to her.

Only for her.

The colossal white wolf lowered her head slowly.

Then roared.

The sound rolled across Blackwood like divine judgment.

Windows shattered somewhere far behind the front lines. Entire trees bent sideways from the force alone while rogue wolves collapsed screaming into the mud with blood running from their ears.

Richard physically staggered backward.

“That’s impossible…”

Silver traps hidden beneath the battlefield snapped upward automatically toward the giant wolf.

The heavy chains shattered against her fur before they could even tighten.

No wounds.

No resistance.

Nothing.

The rogues broke instantly after that.

“No— no, fuck this!”

“RUN!”

“That thing isn’t a wolf!”

Entire front lines collapsed into chaos. Wolves abandoned weapons, allies, commands. Some shifted fully and bolted into the forest on instinct alone.

Richard roared after them furiously, but nobody listened anymore.

The giant white wolf stepped forward once.

The earth cracked beneath her weight.

Killian stared up at her through blood and rain while his chest tightened so hard it almost hurt worse than the silver burns.

Because even now—

Even looking like this—

She still smelled like Eva.

The wolf turned toward him slowly.

Crimson eyes locking onto gold.

And for one suspended moment, the battlefield disappeared completely.

No rogues.

No war.

No kingdom.

Just the two of them standing inside the ruins of everything they’d done to each other.

Killian laughed softly through split lips before he could stop himself.

Not because anything was funny.

Because relief hit him too hard all at once.

She came.

After everything—

She still came for him.

The giant wolf stared at him silently for another long second before beginning to walk toward him through the battlefield.

Rogue wolves scattered instantly from her path.

Nobody wanted to be near her now.

Nobody wanted to touch what she’d clearly decided belonged to her.

Behind her, Richard finally seemed to understand what kind of disaster he’d stepped into.

This wasn’t some vampire queen protecting territory.

This was something ancient protecting its mate.

And those creatures never stopped killing once they started.