Chapter 13: She Wasn’t Supposed to Be There

Annabelle's POV

The howl split the night.

Not a call of celebration or a signal to gather—but the kind that made the marrow in your bones tremble. The kind that meant blood.

Father had already drawn his blade, his face set like stone. I should have been terrified. And I was. But beneath the terror, something raw and primal pushed at the edges of me—the pulse of the alpha bond Ashton had awoken with just one touch earlier.

“Ashton,” I breathed, my fingers curling uselessly at my sides.

“Stay behind me,” Father snapped. He was already moving, already a shadow slicing through the chaos spilling into the pack’s gathering ground. Rogues—too many of them—leapt over the fences, fur black and teeth gleaming.

I didn’t stay behind.

The first rogue hit the dirt not three feet from me, snarling, reeking of blood and mud. My wolf rose sharp in my chest, a low growl breaking from my throat before I realized it. I could feel Ashton through the bond—rage, dominance, a flash of command that rattled my bones like thunder.

But Father was already cutting down the beast. He moved with the precision of a man who’d spent decades perfecting the art of war. Blood sprayed, hot and metallic, as his sword found its mark.

“Annabelle!” Ashton’s voice.

I spun. He was there—bigger, brighter, every line of him burning against the chaos. His wolf was barely leashed, his eyes flashing that lethal gold as he tore through another rogue with his bare hands. The bond snapped taut between us, pulling me forward, urging me to move toward him like a tide I couldn’t resist.

But Father’s command echoed louder: Stay back. Live.

Another rogue lunged at me.

I didn’t think. I moved. My nails lengthened mid-swing, claws tearing through fur and flesh with a sound that would haunt me later. The rogue collapsed, gurgling, and I stood over its twitching body with my chest heaving, my wolf purring dark satisfaction.

For a heartbeat, I was horrified at myself.

Then another heartbeat came, and there was no time to dwell.

The ground shook with roars and screams. The air reeked of iron and smoke. Shadows darted across the field—wolves slamming into each other, bodies tearing, fur and flesh blurring into violence.

“Ashton!” I shouted again. I saw him cut down three rogues in a blur, his strength unmatched, his dominance spilling across the battlefield like fire. And yet… I felt him straining. There were too many.

A flash of silver—Father’s blade—drove another rogue off my left. His face was grim, blood splattered across his tunic, but his eyes never wavered. He looked at me just once, and I knew what it meant. Live, even if I don’t.

“Ashton, fall back!” someone yelled across the field. But Ashton didn’t. Couldn’t. He was a storm unleashed, and through the bond I felt the edge of his fury, sharp enough to cut.

I wanted to run to him. To throw myself into the fight at his side. But then Father staggered—just for a breath, just for a fraction of a second too long. A rogue knocked him to his knees.

“No!” My scream ripped free, raw and desperate. My wolf surged, claws splitting skin, bones threatening to break. I tore forward, every instinct screaming to reach him.

But Ashton was faster.

He slammed into the rogue, ripping it away from Father, his snarl shaking the ground itself. Blood splattered across his chest as he tore the beast in half. He turned to me then, wild, golden-eyed, his breath ragged.

“You listen to me now, Annabelle!” His voice thundered even over the chaos. “Stay behind me or I swear I’ll tie you to the damn wall myself!”

The bond burned between us, his alpha command cutting into me like fire. My knees nearly buckled. Rage rose sharp in my chest, not just at the order but at the fact that part of me wanted—needed—to obey.

But I wasn’t just anyone.

I wasn’t just some mate he could shield away.

I was Annabelle. Daughter of a Beta. Heir to a legacy written in blood and sacrifice.

Another rogue came at me, and this time I didn’t hesitate.

I let my wolf surge, let her claws tear, let her howl join the storm. Blood sprayed, hot against my skin, but the rogue fell. And I stood taller.

Ashton’s eyes met mine across the battlefield. Something dangerous flickered there—anger, yes, but something else. Something hotter. Something that made my chest ache.

Father barked an order, dragging both our attentions. “More are coming! We have to move!”

And in that moment, as the field drowned in chaos, I realized this wasn’t just a fight.

It was a test.

Of my strength.

Of my bond with Ashton.

Of whether I could truly survive the storm we’d been thrown into.

And I swore, with blood on my hands and fire in my chest, that I would.