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“We need to get him out of here,” Imo urged, her hand gripping Luke’s shoulder. “Now.”

But before anyone could move, a third presence made itself known. This one carried no visible form, just a crimson mist that seeped from the ground itself, coiling around the ancient stones like living blood.

“It cannot be,” Elder Grey whispered, her composure cracking for the first time. “They were destroyed. Banished.”

“What is it?” Luke demanded, his hand finding Imo’s arm. “What’s happening?”

“The Blood Moon Coven,” Xander Blackwood answered, his aristocratic features tight with something that looked remarkably like fear. “They’ve returned.”

The Blood Moon Coven? Seriously? Could these supernatural entities have more dramatic names? What was wrong with something simple, like “Bob’s Evil Club” or “The Really Bad Guys”?

The mist thickened, taking on a pulsing rhythm like a massive heartbeat. Where it touched the ground, the grass withered and died. Where it brushed against the standing stones, ancient symbols began to glow with unholy light.

“It was never about the duel,” Derek realized, his tactical mind putting the pieces together. “This was a trap. To gather us all in one place.”

“To gather him,” the elderly man corrected, pointing at me. “The heir to two bloodlines. The perfect vessel.”

Vessel? For what? I was nobody’s vessel, thank you very much. I was barely managing being a quarter-wolf—I didn’t need “supernatural container” added to my resume.

The answer came in the form of a voice—not spoken, but felt, resonating through the ground beneath us and the air around us.

The twice-blessed child returns, it purred, the sound slithering into my mind like a parasite.How considerate of you all to bring him to us. Again.

Again? What did it mean, again?

“We have to get him out of here,” Luke insisted, pulling at Imo’s arm. “Now!”

The crimson mist surged forward like a living thing, tendrils whipping through the air with lethal intent. From my position in Luke’s protective grip, I could see it wasn’t just creepy fog—it was something ancient and hungry, something that fed on supernatural conflict. Where it touched, it burned—Johnson flinched as one brushed his hand, the skin blackening and withering like frostbite on steroids.

Shadow, Storm, and Scout immediately formed a protective circle around us, their massive forms no longer looking like oversized pets but the lethal wolf guardians they truly were. Shadow’s hackles rose as he positioned himself directly in front of Luke, who clutched my tiny wolf form against his chest. Storm and Scout flanked us, their teeth bared in synchronized snarls that would have made Derek proud.

“Protect the heir!” the elderly Chinese leader shouted, and his followers moved with fluid grace, their white-clad forms a blur as they formed a defensive line.

The mist laughed—actually laughed—the sound like bones breaking underwater. It surged upward, forming a towering crimson pillar that pulsed with stolen life force. From within its depths, faces appeared and disappeared—twisted, agonized visages of past victims that made my tiny wolf heart race with primal fear.

You cannot stop what has already begun, it hissed, voice resonating from everywhere and nowhere.The convergence approaches. The blood moon rises again.

Marcus shifted in an explosion of power, his black wolf form launching itself at the nearest tendril. His jaws closed around the crimson mist, which should have been impossible—how do you bite fog?—but he somehow managed it, tearing away a chunk of the living darkness. It screamed as he shook his head violently, black ichor spraying across the stone circle.

Derek and Caleb followed suit, their wolves tearing into the mist from different angles. The Knox Pack, apparently deciding that ancient evil trumped territorial disputes, joined the fray with savage enthusiasm. Wolves that had been enemies minutes ago now fought alongside my mates, their coordination uncanny as they attacked the spreading crimson tendrils.

“The binding stones!” Elder Grey shouted, her composure finally cracking. “We must reactivate the circle!”

The Blackwood brothers, for once not looking smug or superior, leaped into action. Xander’s hands glowed with an eerie silver light as he pressed them against one of the standing stones. James and Liam did the same at equidistant points around the circle, their combined power making ancient runes flicker to life along the weathered surfaces.

“The blood price must be paid!” the crimson-robed woman shrieked, her followers beginning a chant that made my sensitive wolf ears ring painfully. They slashed their palms in perfect unison, their blood hitting the ground in a synchronized pattern that sent waves of dark magic rippling outward.

The mist responded instantly, growing denser, darker, forming appendages that looked disturbingly like clawed hands. One of these massive limbs swept across the clearing, catching three Knox wolves mid-leap and sending them flying into the trees with bone-crushing force. They didn’t get up.

I whimpered involuntarily, pressing closer to Luke’s chest. If I’d been human, I would have had plenty of snarky comments about the absolute insanity unfolding around us, but as a tiny wolf, my options were limited to various pitched yips that didn’t quite convey “We’re all going to die because of supernatural fog with anger issues.”

Shadow growled ferociously as a tendril whipped toward us. Imo threw up one hand, Korean words of power spilling from her lips as she created a shimmering barrier of protection. The mist hit it with a sound like acid on metal, eating through her defenses with terrifying speed.

“Aigoo!” Imo gasped, her hand trembling with effort. “This thing—old magic. Very bad.”

The White Tiger Clan moved with lethal precision, their hands glowing with golden light as they engaged the crimson-robed figures. It wasn’t just martial arts—it was something older, more primal. Where their glowing hands struck, the serpent scales on the robed figures cracked and blackened, drawing screams of rage from their opponents.

“The vessel must be cleansed!” the lead woman snarled, her face now more serpent than human as scales erupted across her skin. She launched herself at Luke—at me—with inhuman speed, fingers elongated into claws that dripped with something green and caustic.