Chapter Fifty Five — The Horn of War

Chapter Fifty Five — The Horn of War
The sound of the horn cut through the night, sharp and desperate.

It was not warning. It was summons to war.

Lucien's head snapped in the direction of the sound, his body tensed in cat-in-waiting position. Eyes flared with added heat, gold spilling out in angry loops, and all of warrior's blood within him reacted to that call. The border was under attack.

My heart lodged in my chest, not with fear, but with something much deeper—certainty. This was it. This was the moment we'd been dreading, the moment Roran's betrayal and the rumors Kira carried had been steering us toward.

Lucien growled, the sound raw, primal, with the kind of rage that could topple kingdoms. He whirled back to me, his hand grasping my arm. "You're not coming."

The words hurt more than the horn.

I gasped, staring at him. "What?"

"You're bleeding, Elara. Half-healed and shaking on your feet. You will not be sent out to fight tonight." His grip was unyielding, his tone a command, his Alpha presence crushing down on me like an iron collar. "I won't permit you."

My wolf erupted instantly, growling deep inside me against the leash he tried to put around my throat.

"You want me to just sit here and watch?" I growled, fury cutting through the pain in my side. "As my pack dies for me? As your pack dies for you?"
No.

"Elara." His voice was all storm and steel, but underneath it was something darker still—pleading. "I will not battle if I am watching you die. You will stay."

I pushed at his chest, though his body did not move. "And I cannot breathe if you leave me behind. I am your Luna. Do not make me your captive."

The horn wailed once more, closer this time, accompanied by a second, a third. My blood pounded with the sound, my wolf scrabbling at my skin, needing to come out. The pack needed us. Needed both of us.

I rose, above the agony of torn flesh, above the dizziness perched at the edges of my eyes. "Lucien, if I am not beside you tonight, then they will never stand behind me at dawn."

The forest waited, the only noise the resonance of horns and the furious pounding of our bond. Lucien's chest heaved with checkered rage, his jaw set hard, his fists digging into his hips.

Then he snarled and spun away from me, cursing under his breath. "You will be the death of me, woman."

"Then at least we'll go together," I shot back.

His gaze jerked to me, gold fire meeting the unbending steel in my own. For an instant, I was afraid he would have his warriors seize me by force and take me back. But then he drew in a harsh, animal breath and gave a hard, sharp nod.

"Fine." Raw fury lashed his tone. "But you're still in arm's reach of me. You disobey once, Elara—once—and I'll toss you over my shoulder and lock you in the keep myself."

I should have bristled. I should have snarled. Instead, I nodded. Because I'd sooner bleed at his side than breathe without him.

He shifted then, in one motion, his body collapsing into the great black wolf lord of the field. His fur shone with night, his eyes molten gold. Power emanated off of him in waves, making even the night itself yield to him.

My wolf sprang forward with a haste, breaking the fragile boundary of my human body. Pain seared across my side, but I didn't care. The world exploded into being, scents crashing against me—metallic tang of already-flowing blood at the edge, reeking stench of rogues, sizzling lightning of Lucien's fury leading the charge.

We sprinted.

Branches slashed past, the earth pounding under our feet, the pack pouring around us like an army called. Lucien was a burst of shadow and gold ahead of me, his power pulling me forward, holding me even as his rage boiled through the bond.

The horns mounted. And the screams.

We burst from the cover onto the border—and chaos wrapped around us.

Rogues swarmed the ridge like locusts, a black wave of teeth and claws tearing into our patrol. Iron and smoke hung in the air, the ground slick with blood. Warriors were fighting in mad clusters, outnumbered, their howls a cry of rage and pain.

Lucien did not hesitate. He launched at the closest one, a burst of shadow and ferocity, his jaws clamping around its throat with bone-aching power. Blood splattered, hot and metal-flavored, but he was already running to the next, tearing through them as if they were stuffed into straw.

I plunged into battle beside him, claws shattering fur and flesh, my wolf howling on the exhilaration of combat. Searing pain shrieked from my side, but adrenaline overwhelmed it, my need to protect my pack flaring hotter.

"Elara!" Lucien's bellow thundered through the bond, half growl, half roar. "Hold on to me!"

I answered by sinking my teeth into the shoulder of a rogue that had lunged for his blind side, ripping it back with a snarl. His fury flared, not at me—but at the sight of blood staining my fur.

“Dammit, Elara!”

But there was no time for more. The rogues came in waves, more than I’d ever seen before, endless, relentless. This wasn’t a skirmish. This was an invasion.

And at its center—looming above the chaos like a specter—stood Roran.

His wolf was enormous, his fur the color of storm clouds, his eyes aglow with twisted triumph. He tore through one of our warriors, dispatching the body aside like a marionette, his howl a war cry.

Lucien stood stock-still for the duration of a single heartbeat, the image of his duplicitous Beta slicing deeper than the sharpest sword. And then his entire body was braced, motionless, killing.

Mine. The utterance rent through the bond, raw and absolute.

I barely had time to prepare myself before Lucien struck Roran, the ground quivering beneath his weight. The two of them slammed into one another in a crash of fur and anger, teeth snapping, claws ripping, snarls shaking the air. Alpha and traitor. Brother and betrayer.

The battle raged around them, but all eyes were on that meeting. And I knew—if Lucien was killed, we would be killed as well.

So I couldn't leave him to fight alone.

I struck the rogues who were trying to flank him, tearing one apart before it could snap its jaws across his open hind leg. Another charged, and I rammed into it, my blood mixing with its as we tumbled over the ground.

"Elara!" His fury burst through the bond, savage and furious. "Stay back!"

I snarled, tearing the rogue's throat out, spitting blood on the ground. "Not a chance."

His fury at me burned fiercer than the flames on the battlefield, but under that, I could feel something else—something nasty and cruel. Fear.

He did not fear the rogues. He did not even fear Roran. He feared I would break. That I would crash.

And gods help me, that only made me fight all the harder.