Chapter 33

When consciousness returned, it came slowly, in fragments. First, awareness of my own body—still in wolf form, muscles aching, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. Then, sounds: growling, the rustle of movement, the harsh breathing of wolves around me.

I forced my eyes open, blinking against the disorientation. The scene before me came into focus gradually—the forest clearing now illuminated by the first hints of dawn, and dominating everything, an enormous black wolf unlike any I had ever seen.

This creature was magnificent and terrifying—at least three times the size of my own wolf, with gleaming obsidian fur and intense amber eyes that burned with intelligence and power. Around him lay the bodies of our attackers, their throats torn, their blood darkening the forest floor. The three human figures I had glimpsed before losing consciousness were now standing at a safe distance, Damonander among them, watching the massive wolf with expressions of wary respect.

As I struggled to my feet, the black wolf turned those burning eyes on me. A deep, rumbling growl emanated from his chest, resonating through the clearing with unmistakable authority. Though I couldn't understand wolf language as such, the message was clear: Submit. Yield. Obey.

My wolf bristled at the command. Despite my exhaustion, despite the obvious power of this creature before me, something primal and stubborn within me refused to bow. I stood my ground, hackles raised, a defiant growl rising from my own throat in response.

The massive wolf's eyes narrowed, his head lowering slightly as if in surprise—or challenge. He took a step toward me, his size even more intimidating up close. I fought the urge to back away, instead holding my position, teeth bared.

The standoff continued for several tense heartbeats. I glanced around, looking for an escape route, only to realize we were completely surrounded by a circle of warrior wolves—presumably members of the patrol team. There would be no running from this confrontation.

Frustration and anger welled up inside me. After everything I had endured tonight—the attack, the fear, fighting for my life—now I was being challenged by this unknown wolf? I released a ferocious roar, surprising even myself with the volume and intensity of it.

The reaction was immediate and shocking. Every wolf in the circle—battle-hardened warriors all—lowered their heads in submission, ears flattening against their skulls. All except the massive black wolf, who continued to stare me down, his expression unreadable but unmistakably unyielding.

We remained locked in this silent battle of wills until, with a sound that was half-growl, half-snort, the black wolf began to shift. I watched, transfixed, as the enormous creature transformed—fur receding, limbs straightening, the powerful wolf form giving way to an equally powerful human one.

My jaw dropped in shock as recognition hit me. Standing before me, naked and glorious in the early morning light, was Kieran.

This was Kieran's wolf? This behemoth that had torn through our attackers like they were made of paper? How had I not recognized him? But then, I had never seen his wolf form before—had never witnessed the transformation that now explained why he commanded such respect and fear among werewolves.

"Everyone leave us," Kieran ordered, his voice deep and rough from the shift. The warriors immediately obeyed, melting back into the forest with silent efficiency. Damonander hesitated a moment longer, giving Kieran a significant look before nodding and following the others.

Once we were alone, Kieran turned those intense amber eyes—so like his wolf's—back to me. "Shift back," he commanded, his tone making it clear he expected immediate compliance.

My wolf, still riding high on the adrenaline of battle and the strange power that had manifested earlier, lifted her chin in defiance. I made no move to shift, instead meeting his gaze steadily.

Kieran's jaw tightened. "Lena," he said, my name a warning on his lips.

I growled softly, then deliberately turned my back on him—a clear signal in wolf language that I was rejecting his authority. Before moving away, I glanced back at him, my eyes deliberately questioning.

Understanding dawned in his expression. "You want answers first," he said, not a question but a statement.

I nodded my wolf head once, decisively.

Kieran ran a hand through his hair, a surprisingly human gesture for someone who had just been a monstrous wolf. "Those men—they were from a rival pack I defeated five years ago. Their Alpha was using human hunters to traffic young werewolves. I executed him and disbanded his pack." His eyes hardened at the memory. "Some of his loyalists never accepted my judgment. They've been hunting me ever since."

I stared at him, processing this information. It matched what the bald man had said about Kieran killing his brother, but painted a very different picture of the circumstances.

"I've made enemies protecting our kind," Kieran continued, his voice tight. "Many enemies. It's the price of leadership—a price I've always been willing to pay." His eyes locked with mine. "But I never intended for that price to be paid by you."

There was genuine regret in his voice, a vulnerability I hadn't expected. My wolf's defiance softened slightly, but I still made no move to shift. Instead, I took a few steps toward him, then sat back on my haunches, my expression clearly saying: And?

Kieran's mouth quirked into a reluctant half-smile. "Stubborn," he muttered, then sighed. "Yes, I should have taken you with me on patrol. Or at least warned you about the potential dangers more clearly." He approached slowly, crouching down until we were eye to eye. "You're right—as Luna, you have responsibilities to the pack. I shouldn't have tried to shield you from that reality."

The admission seemed to cost him something—Kieran Reid wasn't a man accustomed to acknowledging mistakes. Satisfied for the moment, I finally allowed myself to shift