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"No one takes what's mine," he growled, striding toward the helicopter. "And that senator's about to learn exactly what it means to challenge a four-hundred-year-old alpha."

The next ten minutes passed in a blur of efficiency as the Starlight pack members assembled on the airstrip. Orion paced like a caged predator. Centuries of control couldn't quell the primal rage building inside him. His wolf clawed under his skin, demanding release, and demanding blood.

"ETA on our arrival?" Orion barked at the pilot as he climbed into the helicopter, Chance following close behind.

"We'll reach Tristan's island in forty minutes if we push it, Your Majesty."

"Then push it." His voice left no room for debate as he settled into his seat. "The dozen we selected for the plane?"

Chance nodded, his eyes reflecting the same determination. "All armed and ready. Elite guards only—the ones who can shift quickly and silently."

"Good." Orion clenched his jaw as he stared out the window, watching his island shrink away. The mate bond tugged painfully in his chest—a compass pointing toward his Luna. "She's terrified, Chance."

"We'll get her back."

"It's not just that." Orion closed his eyes, concentrating on the bond that stretched between them. "Her fear... it's different. Sharper."

"The visions?"

"They're getting stronger without me there to ground her." He slammed his fist against the side of the helicopter. "That bastard has no idea what he's dealing with."

As the helicopter cut through the clouds, Orion felt something shift within the bond—a pulling sensation so visceral it made him gasp.

Orion, please. I need you. It's a trap. He means to kill you. To enslave your pack. Find me.

Her voice whispered through his mind, clear as if she stood beside him. His wolf howled in response, every muscle in his body tensing.

"She's calling to me," he growled, his eyes flashing gold. "The mate bond—it's evolving. I can hear her."

Chance leaned forward. "What's she saying?"

"Iverson means to kill me. To enslave our pack." A deadly smile curved his lips. "Looks like the good senator forgot the first rule of hunting wolves—don't corner what you can't kill."

Forty minutes later, they touched down on Tristan's island. The lush jungle island sat adjacent to Senator Iverson's private retreat—close enough to see the senator's compound through high-powered binoculars.

Tristan, a tattooed shifter with ties to multiple packs, met them at the landing pad. "King Orion. It's been decades."

"I need your boat, Tristan. The fastest one you've got."

"I gathered as much from your urgent message." Tristan's eyes darted between Orion and the armed shifters disembarking from the plane. "Must be important to bring this much firepower."

"The senator has my Luna."

Tristan's eyebrows shot up. "You found her? After all this time?"

"And lost her in less than two days." Orion's voice was pure steel. "I won't lose her again."

"My speedboat's yours. It can get you there under the radar—the cove on the east side has minimal security."

As they headed toward the docks, the mate bond flared with such ferocity that Orion stumbled. Images flashed through his mind—Seraphina, bound to a chair. The senator, shifting partially, claws extended as he towered over her.

"We need to move. Now." Orion's eyes blazed, his canines lengthening despite his iron control.

Chance grabbed his arm. "Steady, brother. We go in smart, or we don't go in at all."

"If he touches a single hair on her head?—"

"Then we'll rip him apart together," Chance finished, his usual humor replaced by cold determination. "But getting yourself killed won't help her."