Seventy Eight : Battle on the road

Seventy Eight : Battle on the road
Ronald's POV

The forest exploded around us. One heartbeat and tgere was silence. The next, steel clashed and wolves roared. The air filled with smoke, iron, and the thick, primal scent of blood.
“Form ranks!” Lucas shouted somewhere to my left, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Protect the Alpha!”
But they weren’t coming for me.
I felt it almost immediately, the strange rhythm of the attack, the way the masked warriors moved in unison, their strikes curving around me, always aiming for her. For Mara.
“Mara, stay behind me!” I snarled, drawing my blade in one smooth motion.
She didn’t listen of course she never listen. Her wolf flashed through her eyes, fierce and unyielding. She was already fighting, her silver dagger dancing in the moonlight, cutting down one attacker after another.
But there were too many.
The night pulsed with shadows, shapes darting between trees like phantoms. Each time one fell, two more took their place. Their masks gleamed, faceless, expressionless, marked only with a black crescent moon.
Council assassins.
My wolf tore forward, snapping the fragile leash of restraint. Power surged through me like lightning. Bones cracked, fur split my skin, and the world shifted into clarity, scent, sound, movement all sharpening into perfect instinct.
I leapt.
My claws met flesh. A scream split the dark as I tore one of them apart, silver blood spraying the dirt. Another lunged from the side, blade flashing. 
I caught his wrist mid-strike and crushed it until bone splintered.
“Alpha!” Lucas’s voice echoed. “It’s a trap! They’re herding us.”
I didn’t hear the rest. The world was a storm of violence. Every sense screamed at me to protect her.
But as I turned toward Mara, my heart lurched.
She was surrounded, four of them closing in, their blades glinting with silver runes. 
She fought like fire itself, swift and furious, her hair wild, her wolf aura flaring silver-white beneath the moon. But she was tired.
Her blood hit the air, a thin line of crimson down her arm. My wolf went mad.
Ours!
I lunged forward, cutting down the nearest assassin, grabbing another by the throat. I ripped his mask off, and for a heartbeat, I wished I hadn’t.
The face beneath wasn’t a stranger’s.
It was one of ours. A Bloodfang warrior.
My stomach turned. “No…”
Before I could move, a blade raked across my shoulder. Pain flared white-hot, like acid searing through muscle. Silver.
I staggered, my wolf howling inside me as the metal burned deep, poisoning my blood.
“Ronald!” Mara screamed.
She was beside me before I could blink, her dagger slicing across another’s chest. Her movements were pure instinct, graceful, desperate. 
The smell of her blood mixed with mine, and the bond between us pulsed so strong it felt alive, dragging me upright when my body wanted to fall.
“Mara….get back!”
“Shut up and fight!” she snapped, and for a moment, even through the pain, I almost smiled.
Lucas’s voice rang out again. “Alpha! They’re not after you, it’s her! They’re trying to separate you!”
I already knew. I could feel it. Every blade, every arrow, all angled toward her. Every move meant to draw her away from me.
I shifted again, forcing my wolf higher, burning through the pain. My claws raked through another’s spine. Two down. Three. The ground was slick with blood, my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
But the poison spread faster. Silver always did.
Each breath came ragged. My vision blurred at the edges. Still, I fought. Still, I killed.
And still, they came.
Through the chaos, one figure moved differently, tall, sure, unhurried. The leader. The air bent around him, heavy with the scent of dark magic. His mask was black, marked with a blood-red crescent.
He didn’t fight. He watched.
My instincts screamed as he stepped closer to Mara, almost calm amid the carnage.
“Mara!” I shouted, lunging, but my leg buckled. The wound in my shoulder pulsed with silver fire.
She turned just as the masked leader raised his blade.
I threw myself forward, catching the strike with my arm. The silver bit deep, straight through flesh and bone. I roared, forcing the pain down, wrenching the sword away.
“You want her,” I snarled, “you’ll have to go through me.”
The leader tilted his head. His voice was low, distorted by the mask. “That is the idea, Alpha.”
He drove his fist into my ribs. Something cracked, the world lurched and suddenly I was on my knees, the ground spinning beneath me.
Mara’s scream ripped through the night. “Ronald!”
She lunged for him, her blade a flash of silver light. For a heartbeat, she moved like her ancestors, like the heir she was born to be her power humming through the air.
But the leader was faster.
He sidestepped, grabbed her wrist, and twisted hard. Her dagger fell. His hand clamped around her throat, lifting her off the ground.
I tried to move. I tried to stand. But my body refused. The poison had reached my veins, eating through strength and will alike.
“Mara!” I roared, my voice breaking with fury and helplessness.
Her feet kicked against the dirt, her eyes burning defiance even as her breath faltered.
The leader’s gaze flicked down to me. “You should have stayed your hand, Bloodfang. You protect the very curse that will destroy you.”
He pressed the blade against her throat.
“No!” I surged forward, but the world tilted again.
The last thing I saw before my vision blurred was her face, fierce, terrified, shining with moonlight and the leader’s final words, a whisper that cut deeper than steel:
“The Blood Moon claims its heir.”
His dagger flashed.
Pain tore through me.
Light fractured and darkness dives in.