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“What the—” Imo gasped. “White Tiger Clan? Here?”

Her reaction told me everything I needed to know—whatever these white-clad ninja wannabes were, they weren’t part of Imo’s supernatural world. Which meant we were dealing with yet another faction in this increasingly complicated supernatural mess. Great. Just great.

“We come in peace,” announced the figure at the center, removing his mask to reveal the face of an elderly Asian man with eyes that seemed to see right through me. “We seek only what is ours to protect.”

“Nothing here belongs to you,” Marcus replied, his voice dangerously calm. “This is Stone territory.”

“Not the land,” the man said, his gaze finding me unerringly despite the crowd. “The heir. The last of the Imperial Dragon bloodline. The child of Sarah Chen.”

Imperial Dragon bloodline? My mother? What the actual?—

If I could have spoken in my wolf form, I’d have had a few choicewords about this new revelation. My mother was supposedly from some imperial dragon bloodline? The same mother who couldn’t even kill spiders without calling me to help?

“Kai Chen is under our protection,” Derek stated flatly. “Any claim you think you have is irrelevant.”

“You misunderstand,” the man said, taking a step forward that caused Derek’s team to raise their weapons. “We do not claim him. We serve him. As we served his mother, and her mother before her.”

Served? My mother had servants?

“He doesn’t know,” the man realized, studying my confused expression. “Sarah never told him of his heritage.”

“I do not know what game you play,” Imo said sharply, “but Kai-ya is under my protection now. What you think you know about his mother?—”

“A Korean mudang,” the man observed, studying Imo with interest. “Interesting company for the last dragon heir. Your traditions are different from ours, but your power is respected, shaman.”

Imo stiffened, clearly not appreciating being interrupted or having her abilities assessed by a stranger.

“Enough riddles,” Marcus snapped. “State your purpose clearly or leave.”

“Our purpose is his protection,” the man replied simply. “Especially now that the Crimson Serpent Society has found his trail.”

The words meant nothing to me, but they clearly meant something to Imo, whose sharp intake of breath sent a new wave of tension through our group.

“The Serpents?” she demanded, her voice tight with alarm. “You are certain?”

The man nodded gravely. “We’ve tracked them since the festival. They wait, as we wait. But not for long.” He turned to Marcus. “Alpha Stone, you have claimed the dragon heir as mate.But you cannot protect him from what comes. Not without our help.”

“We’ve managed so far,” Caleb replied, his usual charm nowhere in evidence.

“Against wolves, yes,” the man acknowledged. “But not against blood magic. Not against those who have hunted the dragon bloodline for centuries.”

Blood magic? Dragon bloodline? This was getting better by the second. Next, they’d be telling me my father was actually Godzilla and I was destined to save Tokyo.

As if to punctuate his warning, a new tension filled the air—a different kind of energy, colder and somehow slick, like oil on water. At the edge of the clearing, new figures appeared. These wore crimson robes, their faces obscured by hoods, their hands adorned with scales.

“Too late,” the elderly man murmured. “They’re here.”

The crowd erupted into chaos. Wolves who moments before had been formal observers scrambled for safety, clearing the benches in seconds. Derek’s team closed ranks around us, while the Stone brothers moved to intercept the newcomers.

“Give us the abomination,” called a female voice from among the crimson-robed figures. “The half-breed must not be allowed to reach maturity.”

Abomination? Half-breed? Okay, now I was getting offended. I might be stuck as a tiny wolf, but I had feelings, damn it.

“You will not touch him,” Marcus snarled, his voice barely human.

The woman laughed, the sound like breaking glass. “You cannot stop what has already begun, wolf. The convergence approaches. The blood moon rises again.”

Blood moon. The words triggered something in me—a memory, a nightmare, a primal fear that sent me burrowing deeper into Luke’s protective hold. Images flashed through my mind—moonlight on blood, screams in darkness, the smell of fear and death.