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SONYA

T he wind howled low and hungry through the pines as dawn bled into the sky—rose gold and blood-red, smeared across the horizon like a promise no one wanted to keep.

Sonya stood at the front of their assembled force, her fingers curled tight around the hilt of a blade strapped to her thigh, her wolf pacing restless just beneath her skin.

Around her, the quiet murmurs of warriors preparing for war rose like a storm surge—deep breaths, the rasp of metal sliding through leather, prayers whispered into the earth.

The mountain air was crisp, but her blood burned hot.

This was it.

No turning back.

No more bargaining or pleading or hoping that reason might still reach Roman.

He’d made his stance clear when Mira’s head rolled across the dirt then threatened the rest of the pack.

He ruled by fear and fire.

And now, they were going to burn his kingdom down.

Landon moved beside her, every inch the king he’d grown into—shoulders squared, jaw set, his golden eyes sharper than she’d ever seen them.

His aura pulsed, ancient and electric, the kind of power that made even seasoned shifters go still with awe.

“We hit the center like we planned,” he said, voice low.

“You lead the northern flank with Garen. I take the southern gate and meet you in the middle.”

She nodded, slipping a hand into his, the warmth of his calloused palm grounding her.

“Don’t die.”

He smirked.

“Same to you.”

Then they moved.

The march was quiet at first, save for the crunch of boots on pine needles and the low growls of wolves barely contained beneath flesh.

They’d trained for this.

They were ready.

The compound came into view—a twisted sprawl of wood and stone with a new silver fence, the bastardization of what once had been a sacred place.

Roman had built walls to keep power in and rebellion out.

But they weren’t coming to knock.

They were coming to break everything.

She could already hear it—shouts from the southern gate, the clatter of claws against stone, the thunderous roar of wolves shifting mid-charge.

The battle had begun.

She adjusted the strap of her blade and glanced up toward the western tower.

And there she was—Lena, standing like a damn statue on the steps, eyes already locked on her like she’d been expecting this exact moment.

Of course she had.

“Sonya,” Lena cooed, her voice carrying through the clearing like poisoned honey.

“Come to finally get what’s yours?”

Sonya stepped into the open, slow and steady.

“Funny. That’s what I came to take back.”

Lena laughed, a brittle sound that cut through the air like glass.

She sauntered down the steps, one hand rolling her shoulder like she was warming up for a sparring match, not a bloodbath.

“I always knew you’d end up on your back for someone like Landon. You’ve got that stupid look in your eyes—like he’s different. Like he’s worth losing everything for.”

Sonya’s jaw clenched.

“He is.”

“Then you’re even dumber than I thought.”

Lena struck first, a blur of movement, claws slicing for Sonya’s face.

Sonya ducked, swept low, and kicked Lena’s legs out from under her.

But Lena rolled with it, springing back up with a snarl and launching herself forward, fangs flashing.

They tumbled across the dirt in a flurry of punches, knees, and blood-slicked claws.

Lena was relentless—quick and brutal, fighting with the kind of wild rage that burned bridges and buried bodies.

But Sonya was focused.

She’d trained for this.

She knew Lena’s rhythms, her arrogance.

Her overconfidence.

“You don’t get to say his name,” Sonya snapped, slamming her elbow into Lena’s jaw.

Lena reeled back, blood smeared across her teeth.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she rasped, “you’re gonna wish I was your worst problem today.”

Sonya’s wolf pushed forward, tearing through her skin in a burst of white-hot fury.

She shifted fully mid-fight, muscles stretching, claws digging into the stone floor beneath them.

Lena shifted too, black and lean, a shadow to Sonya’s light.

They collided again.

Fangs clashed. Blood sprayed.

The clash of their bodies cracked against the courtyard walls like thunder.

Sonya sank her teeth into Lena’s shoulder and threw her bodily into a pillar, stone shattering on impact.

“Stay down,” she growled, voice thick with her wolf’s growl.

But Lena never knew when to quit.

She lunged once more, desperate and snarling—and Sonya met her mid-leap, tackling her to the ground and ending it with a final, brutal bite to the neck.

Lena went limp beneath her, a whisper of blood and hate.

Sonya panted, her body trembling, adrenaline crashing like a wave through her system.

But there was no time to rest.

That’s when she felt it.

The shift in the air.

The cold.

Not from the wind—but from something…

else.

She ran.

Through smoke and dust and bodies, past friend and foe alike.

She vaulted over a crumbled wall and landed hard on the other side—just in time to see Landon.

He stood at the heart of the compound, shirt torn, golden eyes lit like wildfire.

His wolf flickered through his skin, power radiating in waves.

But it wasn’t just him.

Roman stood like a god at the eye of a storm, arms spread wide, his face twisted in ecstasy and madness.

A blood circle glowed beneath his feet, carved into the stone courtyard with precision and cruelty.

The symbols were ancient—old enough to make her wolf whimper in the back of her mind.

“What the hell is he doing?” Sonya whispered.

The sky above cracked, a deep, angry sound like the earth itself groaning.

Roman’s voice rose into a chant.

Not words, not really—sounds that didn’t belong in any language spoken by mortals.

The sigils pulsed, veins of black energy spidering across the ground like roots.

He was opening something.

No, summoning.

Calling forth something foul and buried.

Sonya’s blood turned to ice as her memory scrambled through the stories her parents told in hushed whispers—of the Forbidden Depths.

The under-realm where ancient spirits and malformed beasts waited in slumber.

Roman was calling one.

A creature from the infernal plane.

A Revenant—a spirit of war and ruin.

They weren’t supposed to be real.

And Roman was feeding it blood.

Offering up the compound.

The land. The people.

To seal the pact.

She saw Landon then, golden-eyed and glowing, standing across from Roman.

He looked shaken, but not afraid.

His power rippled off him in waves, his aura fighting back the unnatural corruption that seeped from Roman’s circle.

“No…” she breathed. “No, no, no?—”

She ran.

Her body screamed in protest, blood still dripping from wounds she hadn’t realized Lena had landed.

But she ran anyway, bare feet hitting stone, dodging the chaos of the battle around her.

She had to get to him.

If Roman finished the ritual…

If that thing came through…

There wouldn’t be a world left to save.