Page 44 of A Reign of Malice (Wolves of Lunara #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

JULIAN

W atching Sloane walk away from me, down that shadowed path that led to the unknown, was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. She didn’t look back, and I understood. Because if she had, I might’ve broken. I might’ve chased her down and refused to let her go.

But that’s not what she needed.

She needed me to believe in her. To trust that she could finish what she started. So I did.

Until the attack.

It came like lightning. A scream, a spray of blood and chaos.

Five of our wolves fell before we even had time to react. They never saw it coming. And that’s when I knew—someone among us had warned Aeson. We had a traitor. Our carefully constructed plan shattered in an instant.

There was no time left to stall.

We had to move.

Asher, Theo, and I regroup first. We pull back from the others, give orders, pivot where necessary, and within minutes, we launch into formation. This isn’ t just a battle anymore. It might be a rescue, and I won’t leave Sloane waiting.

My mate is inside that castle, and I can feel her pain.

Not in vague terms, not metaphorically. I feel it. A sharp crack in my chest like something had seared right through to my heart. My mate is hurt. And every second we wait, the pain only deepens.

So I run.

I lead the charge with a roar that rattles through the trees. Claws pound earth. Teeth bared. Every wolf at my side follows without hesitation, our intentions set on tearing the castle gates off their hinges, on burning down the walls and everything within.

Most importantly, I won’t stop until Sloane is safe in my arms again.

As one pack, we run through the terrain with unstoppable efficiency. I expect another attack before we get to the castle, but it seems Aeson is keeping the rest of his warriors close, meaning this fight won’t be spread out. It will be like a bomb detonating once we get there.

Moving through the last section of forest, I sense the dark energy soaking these woods, growing heavier the further we go.

My wolf bristles, but the darkness doesn’t slow us down.

We have a mission to execute and nothing will stop us.

Not even the horde of wolves awaiting us when we break through the woods.

Most of Aeson’s pack has shifted, their massive forms weaving in and out of the battle like shadows with teeth. But a dozen remain at the rear, still in human form, lined up in formation, bows raised and glinting with deadly metal at the tips.

As we surge forward, the hiss of arrows slices through the sky. Most miss, embedding into stone and earth, but the ones that strike—gods, they strike hard.

A yelp tears through the air a few wolves down from me. One of ours collapses, an arrow lodged in his flank. It shouldn’t be fatal. It shouldn’t drop him like that. But he falls instantly, thrashing wildly, foam already bubbling from his lips.

Poison.

The fury in me surges, burning white-hot.

With a snarl, I barrel forward faster. The battlefield becomes a storm. Claws raking flesh, howls cutting through the air, the stench of blood thickening with every heartbeat. I dodge another arrow, my wolf twisting mid-run. The archer that fired it won’t get another chance.

But before I can reach him, another wolf blocks my path. Midnight fur, silver eyes wide as we crash together. His teeth snap for my throat, but he’s trembling. I feel it in the way his body shudders beneath mine. Even his movements are almost hesitant.

This one doesn’t want to be here.

He’s not fighting for a cause. He’s following a forced command.

I pin him, my claws digging into the soft flesh near his neck. Not enough to kill, just enough to warn. My growl vibrates through him, a low, savage sound that says: don’t move again.

He doesn’t.

I shift my weight then slam my shoulder into his side, breaking a rib, maybe two. He lets out a pained whine, but remains still, his muzzle pressed to the dirt in surrender.

Good. I don’t want to kill wolves like him.

Once I feel certain he’s going to stay down, I walk away, prepared for the next attacker, but it’s not a foe who joins me.

Garron’s at my side, glancing between me and the fallen wolf. He nods as if he understands. Some of these wolves aren’t fighting out of loyalty. They’re fighting out of fear, and that doesn’t deserve a death sentence.

Up ahead, Estee rips through a shifter twice her size with a precision that borders on brutal elegance. Isla fights at her back, but in her human form for now. There’s fire in her eyes, her blades twin streaks of silver slashing through the chaos.

Asher’s growl echoes loudly above the cacophony as he takes down a pair of wolves with a single leap. Theo’s close behind him, fangs at the ready to finish the kill, dripping crimson.

Still, I can’t take the time to see who’s fallen, who’s still standing, who’s bleeding, and who’s still breathing. I am not their savior today.

Not yet.

My wolf surges inside me, our bond with Sloane like a beacon through the noise and fire. We can feel her—distant but not gone. Hurt but not broken. We just have to reach her.

Snarling, I charge forward again, no hesitation in my limbs, no fear left in my bones.

My mate is in that castle. And no force, no poison, no army will keep me from her.

I’m nearly there. I can feel her thrumming through our bond, flickering with pain and fury and something I can’t quite name. But it draws me like gravity.

Until something slams into me from the side.

The impact is jarring. Bone meeting bone. Claws raking across my flank, hot blood spilling in seconds .

I roll with it, instincts honed to the edge. We crash to the earth, snarling, snapping, a blur of fur and violence.

The wolf on top of me is nearly my size, dark red fur already matted with blood, none of it seeming to be his own. His eyes are wild. Not frightened like some of the others. This one is here to kill.

I twist, trying to throw him, but he’s strong, his claws finding purchase along my shoulder once more. Pain blooms, sharp and brutal. He bites down toward my throat.

I rear back and slam my skull into his jaw. The crack echoes in my ears.

He yelps, but only for a second before lunging again. This time, I’m ready. I sink my fangs into the side of his neck, not deep enough to kill, but close.

He bucks, blood flying in droplets between us.

We grapple, a dance of rage and dominance, claws tearing at flesh, fur soaked and slick. My vision narrows, the world reduced to crimson and instinct. He catches my leg, biting down hard. I roar and slam him to the ground, both paws on his chest.

This time, I don’t hesitate.

I rip into him with all the ferocity I’ve held back.

My claws sink deep. My teeth clamp around his shoulder, and I pull , tearing tendons and muscle in a spray of blood and raw power. He snarls and fights back, but it’s a desperate thing now. I overpower him, every ounce of my strength thrown into this one kill.

Because this one won’t stop. Not unless I end him.

With a final lunge, I slam him to the earth again, this time hard enough that bone gives way beneath me. His bellow is cut short as he goes still.

Panting, blood dripping from my jaws, I back away .

He doesn’t rise. He won’t ever again.

My heart is thundering, my limbs screaming, but I don’t stop.

We might be facing hell out here, but Sloane is too, and she’s facing it alone.

I lift my head to the sky and release a howl so raw, so furious, it could tear the stars apart. The sound rips from deep within my chest, shaking the earth of the broken kingdom I once called home.

And then I run.

The entry to the castle looms ahead, tall and silent, thick with shadows. I should shift back to open the door like a sane man. But I’m far past that. What I feel now is rage and fear and love so all-consuming it pushes past pain, past exhaustion and logic.

My paws slam against the stone, claws digging in. I don’t hesitate.

With a vibrating growl, I hurl myself forward and crash into the wooden doors, shredding them like paper. The hinges scream. The wood groans. And then the entry gives way beneath me, and I explode into the castle like a storm.

Fog clings to the floor, thick and laced with something dark and wrong. The scent of magic slams into me—decay, sulfur, and something sweet like spoiled fruit. But worse than that is the blood.

So much blood.

It paints the floor in uneven streaks. A metallic tang lingers like a veil. I skid on slick stone, scrambling to stay upright.

Gods, what has my brother done?

Sloane’s scent hits me next. It’s faint and laced with pain.

A snarl tears from my throat. My wolf surges, wrath and desperation driving every muscle in my body as I leap forward and chase the trail.

I scan the staircase ahead, assuming Aeson dragged her back to his private chambers.

But my wolf veers hard right, snarling low, a guttural sound of instinct and certainty.

One hallway. Then another, longer corridor that stretches like a vein straight into the castle’s poisoned heart.

The trace of my mate sharpens. Not just Sloane’s—Aeson’s too. And something else…

Death.

My chest tightens, a primal warning echoing in my bones. I push harder, paws tearing against the marble, breath ragged with the burden of fear.

And then I hear it. Sloane’s roar of determination. She’s still fighting back.

I’m coming for you.

I round the final turn, my wolf taking charge, tearing into the wooden floors as he goes. We enter a formal dining room, but the opulence has been stripped away by the spray of crimson over the table and the dead body at Aeson’s feet.

It isn’t my Sloane.

Instead, my mate is on her knees, blood streaking down her temple, trying to rise. Aeson towers over her, dagger raised, its blade glinting with something dark.

I don’t think. I don’t breathe. I leap.

My wolf crashes into him with bone-breaking force. The sound of his body slamming into the stone floor is satisfying, but too quickly, I feel it.

A sting between my ribs. The blade.

Aeson’s dagger has found its mark.

Sloane’s scream splits the air. “Julian!”

I stumble, legs buckling. Heat flares through my veins, followed by a cold that feels like it’s eating me from the inside out.

I’ve charged into danger, and instead of saving my mate, I might have just killed us both because whatever poison was on those arrows…

I have no doubt it’s on this dagger as well.