Chapter 34

Chapter 34


The battle erupted in a roar of claws and fangs.

Abigaíl—freed from her bonds with a deftness no enemy expected—leapt into the fight without hesitation. Around her, the ambush had turned into a war zone. Kilian’s alphas descended like shadows upon the Cold Bloods, leaving behind bodies and screams in their wake.

Nyra roared inside her—furious, wild—yearning to seize control and protect them all. But Abigaíl clung to reason… to strategy. She had to stay calm—not just for herself, but for those she protected.

She struck with precision. Two enemies at once. One fell to a spinning kick; the other, with a clean blow to the neck. There was no room for doubt. Yet while her body moved with trained fluidity, her mind… wasn’t fully present.

One figure in the crowd captured her attention.

A wolf. Large, agile, lethal. His form shifted during attacks; his movements calculated, exact. Not like a simple warrior… but someone who knew the rhythm of battle like a dance.

And she… she knew that dance.

“Dylan,” her mind whispered—though she still didn’t want to accept it. The same one who’d captured her. The one who addressed her by a name she couldn’t recall ever using.

Luciana.

That single word ignited a fire within her. Not a memory… not yet. But an emotion. Pain. Rage. Nostalgia.

Distracted, she didn’t notice the massive grey wolf slipping through the chaos behind her.

Nyra felt it. She screamed inside her mind.

“Behind you!”

But before Abigaíl could turn, a howl echoed beside her, and the attacker was slammed down by a brutal force.

—I told you—hands off the Luna! —growled a voice, powerful and authoritative, familiar.

Abigaíl whirled just in time to see the wolf who had saved her. It wasn’t Kilian. It wasn’t Ian. It was him.

Jackson.

No… Dylan.

Kilian reached her side at that very moment, his face a mask of fury at the trespasser facing his queen. Without hesitation, he lunged.

But Dylan dodged as if he'd anticipated it for years, as if he knew every move.

The two wolves stood face to face. The air between them ignited.

—It’s… you —Abigaíl whispered, not realizing she spoke aloud.

Dylan shifted back into his human form, panting slightly, with a half-smile playing on his lips.

—Hello again… Luciana.

That name hovered in the air like a threat.

Kilian growled, prepared to strike again—but a dozen howls shattered the tension. Northern reinforcements arrived at full speed. Dylan glanced, appraised the situation, then stepped back.

He howled. His pack—synchronized as one organism—began to withdraw from the battlefield. Not in chaos, but in formation. Not a flicker of disarray. They were trained warriors, disciplined.

Everything changed in that instant.

Before disappearing into the trees, Dylan cast a final look at Kilian.

—This isn’t over yet. Soon I’ll take everything that belongs to you.

And then, glancing back at Abigaíl:

—Including her.

He vanished.

\---

Silence fell like a weight after his departure. The only sound for several seconds was the breaking of branches and the labored breaths of combatants. No one moved. No one spoke.

Abigaíl felt her chest rise and fall—her heart still pounding against her ribs. But not from battle.

From Dylan’s gaze. From the way he called her. From the fact that, amidst chaos, he had protected her.

And from Kilian’s reaction—who now gripped her arm tightly, examining her from head to toe.

—Are you okay? —his voice was hoarse, but contained.

—Yes… we need to talk —she managed. Her voice was weaker than she intended.

No need to speak more. Her eyes said it all. She was confused. Unsettled. Destabilized.

The enemy hadn’t just struck with claws.

They’d struck at the kingdom’s balance.

\---

Back at the castle, the alphas were tense. Ian issued orders nonstop while Gabriel organized the defense lines. Soldiers walked in silence—no one dared utter the truth.

The attack had failed.

Not because of strategy.

But because of the Luna.

When the Cold Bloods tried to kill her, the squad’s objective shifted. The plan collapsed. Everything centered on her. Her safety became the priority. Ian gave the order, and everyone—without question—obeyed.

And that, exactly, was Dylan’s goal.

And he had succeeded.

\---

In the war room, Ian’s words were blunt.

—They’re no longer a band of rogues or deserters. They’re organized. Coordinated. Their technique is clean. Their ranks are trained.

—And they have a leader —Gabriel added—. One who knows how to pressure us.

Kilian remained silent. Since entering the castle, he hadn’t spoken a single word. He only observed the border maps, the reports—turning again and again to the image in his mind:

Dylan. Saving Abigaíl.

He didn’t act out of mercy. He acted to send a message.

A challenge.

And he understood it perfectly.

\---

That night, Abigaíl could not sleep.

She'd requested to be alone, ignoring Nyra’s advice to stay close to Kilian or some trusted alpha. But she needed her thoughts.

The way he called her echoed in her mind again and again.

Luciana.

It wasn’t just provocation.

It meant something more.

Images she didn’t remember seeing filtered into her dreams: a burning tower, a black wolf like night, and a white one like the moon… clashing over her.

Her breath hitched and suddenly she opened her eyes.

Kilian entered her room, concerned, his face tight. He had seen the vision—through her eyes. He didn’t know how, but he was sure: it wasn’t just a dream.

Abigaíl sat at the edge of the bed and said:

—I think I know who leads the Cold Bloods… It’s Dylan. My partner in my past life. I don’t know how he came here, or why I didn’t realize it until today, but… not only did he call me by my true name, but the way he fights… the way his people follow him… I’m certain it’s him.

Kilian tried to calm Laikan, but he hadn’t forgotten she had mistaken him for Dylan the first time our bodies met. His fists clenched, and looking at her with amber eyes, he asked in a low, controlled voice:

—Does it affect you?

—What?

—That he’s here? Does it affect you?

—No… or well, yes, but not in the way you think.

Abigaíl got off the bed and approached him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she whispered:

—It unnerved me—this bastard is here... and he was given a second chance when he clearly doesn’t deserve one. But it’s okay, darling. This just became personal. In my past life I never got to enjoy his death. In this one… he’ll pay for every second of my suffering. And I hope you stand by me when that happens.

Kilian growled. With force, he lifted her and threw her onto the bed. She laughed nervously, knowing exactly what that did to him.

Laikan’s eyes glowed. In a deep, unified voice he murmured:

—I’ll rip his head off and bring it to you as a trophy, if you ask, kitten…

Abigaíl smiled and added:

—Mmm... “kitten.” I like it. That is definitely staying.

She extended her claws and sank them into Laikan’s back as he kissed her neck and growled in pleasure at her marking.

—My wolf… tonight I want you to fuck me hard…

He smiled, ripped off her dress in one tug, and growled with ferocity:

—I won’t let you sleep for three days…

Abigaíl smiled too. Holding his face in her hands, she kissed him before whispering, softly:

—I love you, wolf. I love you, Kilian.

Laikan’s gaze shifted. His eyes turned two different colors: one amber… the other green. And in a deep unified voice he answered:

—And we love you, my moon… my everything. Mine. And only mine.