Chapter 15
1176words
The Blackwater main house is quieter today, the frantic energy of the emergency replaced by the steady rhythm of recovery. A young wolf at the door recognizes me from before and waves me through without question.
Inside, most of the makeshift hospital beds have been cleared away, with only the most seriously injured remaining in the great room. I spot Mason sitting up in a bed near the window, his torso heavily bandaged but his color good.
"Lucille," he greets me with surprise when I approach. "Mila didn't mention you were coming."
"She doesn't know," I admit, setting my medical bag down. "I wanted to check on everyone. How are you feeling?"
"Better," he says, wincing slightly as he shifts. "The doc says I can go home tomorrow if everything looks good."
"Mila will be thrilled," I say, examining his bandages with professional detachment. "These are healing well."
"Thanks to you and your doctor," Mason says. "We owe Moonhaven a debt."
I wave away his thanks. "That's what neighbors do."
As I finish checking his wounds, I try to appear casual. "How is everyone else recovering? Damon? The Alpha?"
Mason's knowing smile tells me I'm not as subtle as I think. "Damon's up and about, though he shouldn't be. And Ivan..." He pauses, studying me. "He's in his office. Working, of course. Man doesn't know how to rest."
My heart beats faster at the mention of Ivan's name. "He should be taking it easy with those wounds."
"Maybe you should tell him that," Mason suggests, his eyes twinkling. "He might actually listen to you."
Before I can respond, a commotion erupts outside—shouts, the sound of running feet, and then a bone-chilling howl that raises the hair on my arms.
"What the—" Mason starts, trying to get up.
"Stay here," I order, pushing him gently back. "You're in no condition to fight."
I rush to the window in time to see chaos unfolding on the lawn. At least a dozen wolves—some in human form, others fully shifted—are pouring from the tree line, attacking the Blackwater guards with savage precision.
"They're back," Mason says grimly from behind me. "The rogues."
My blood runs cold. "Where's Ivan?"
As if summoned by my question, the front door bursts open and Ivan strides in, his face a mask of controlled fury. Damon follows close behind, already barking orders to the wolves in the room.
"Get the injured to the safe room," Ivan commands. "Everyone who can fight, with me."
His silver eyes scan the room, stopping abruptly when they land on me. For a moment, everything else seems to fade away—the shouts, the chaos, the impending danger. There's just Ivan, his gaze locked with mine, a storm of emotions crossing his face.
Then he's moving toward me with purpose, his long strides eating up the distance between us.
"What are you doing here?" he demands, his voice rough with concern.
"I came to check on the injured," I explain, trying to keep my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me. "What's happening?"
"The rogues are back," he says tersely. "And this time they've brought friends."
A crash from outside punctuates his words, followed by snarls and the sound of fighting.
"You need to get to safety," Ivan says, his hand closing around my upper arm. The contact sends a jolt of awareness through me, my wolf immediately responding to his touch. "Now."
"I can help," I protest. "I'm a healer."
"And I need you alive to do that healing," he counters, already guiding me toward a hallway at the back of the house. "The safe room is this way."
Another crash, closer this time, and the sound of breaking glass. The rogues are trying to get into the house.
Ivan curses under his breath, then turns to Damon who has appeared at his side. "Get her to safety," he orders. "I'll hold them off."
"Ivan—" I start, but he cuts me off.
"Please, Lucille," he says, his voice softening for just a moment. "I can't fight if I'm worried about you."
Something in his eyes—a vulnerability beneath the steel—silences my protest. I nod once.
Relief flashes across his face before the Alpha mask returns. He turns to Damon. "Keep her safe."
"With my life," Damon promises, taking my arm.
Ivan's eyes meet mine one last time, intense and filled with things unsaid, before he turns and strides toward the front of the house where the sounds of fighting are growing louder.
Damon pulls me toward the hallway. "Come on, we need to move."
We've barely made it halfway down the corridor when a window shatters ahead of us, and a massive gray wolf lands in our path, teeth bared and eyes wild with bloodlust.
Damon pushes me behind him, his body already beginning to shift despite his injuries. "Run!" he growls, his voice distorting as his bones begin to crack and reform.
But there's nowhere to run—another wolf has appeared behind us, cutting off our retreat. We're trapped.
Damon completes his shift, his tawny wolf form placing itself protectively between me and the gray rogue. Despite his injuries, he looks formidable, hackles raised and teeth bared in challenge.
The gray wolf lunges first, and the two collide in a blur of fur and fangs. I press myself against the wall, desperately searching for a weapon, anything to help.
My hand closes around a decorative fire poker mounted on the wall. Not ideal, but better than nothing.
Damon is holding his own, but I can see his movements are hampered by his healing shoulder. When the second wolf begins to advance on us, I know we're in serious trouble.
"Damon, behind you!" I shout, raising the poker.
He whirls, narrowly avoiding the second wolf's attack, but the movement leaves him open to the gray wolf, who seizes the opportunity to sink its teeth into Damon's injured shoulder.
Damon yelps in pain, and something in me snaps. Without thinking, I swing the poker with all my strength, catching the gray wolf across the muzzle. It releases Damon with a howl of pain, turning its fury toward me.
Time seems to slow as the wolf launches itself at me, jaws open, eyes burning with hatred. I raise the poker in a futile attempt to defend myself, knowing it won't be enough.
And then a black blur crashes into the gray wolf mid-leap, sending both animals tumbling across the floor in a snarling, snapping tangle of limbs.
The black wolf is massive, larger than any I've ever seen, with power evident in every line of its body. It fights with controlled fury, each movement precise and devastating.
Ivan.
My wolf recognizes him instantly, surging forward with such force that I gasp. Mine, she insists. Ours.
