The night was silent, the moon casting its pale glow over the sleeping pack of WarBlade. Within the heart of the pack grounds, Ares lay in his chamber, his powerful frame at rest. His mate, Thena, lay nestled beside him, her breathing soft and steady. His large hand rested protectively over her swollen belly, the life they had created together growing within her.
For a brief moment, there was peace.
Then, the stillness shattered. A distant, haunting howl split the night, followed by the deep, rhythmic pounding of war drums. Ares’ eyes snapped open, his sharp instincts kicking in. The echoes of howls and the sudden shouts outside told him everything he needed to know.
Thena stirred beside him, her brows knitting in confusion. "What is—"
Before she could finish, the heavy wooden doors of their chamber burst open. Zane, Ares’ Beta, rushed inside and bowed swiftly. "Alpha, the vampires are here. It’s an ambush."
Ares swung his legs over the side of the bed, already in motion. "Have you mobilized the warriors?"
"Yes, Alpha. They're already engaging the enemy."
Ares nodded, his expression hard. "Good. Make sure all the pups and those who cannot fight are led to safety. I don't want a single innocent life lost."
"Understood." Zane stormed out as quickly as he had entered.
Ares turned to Thena, his gaze softer now. He placed a warm hand on her stomach. "Stay here. Do not come out. It’s too dangerous."
She nodded, her lips trembling. "Be careful."
He pressed a lingering kiss to her belly, then cupped her face, kissing her deeply before pulling away. Without another word, he turned, storming out of the chamber and shutting the doors behind him.
—
The battlefield was chaos.
The scent of blood and burning wood filled the air as the pack grounds were engulfed in war. Flames licked at the edges of homes, turning the peaceful night into a vision of hell. Lycans, their bodies massive and covered in fur, clashed with vampires, whose pale faces were twisted in bloodlust.
The vampires were disciplined, moving in tight formations. Their archers took high positions, raining silver-tipped arrows down upon the Lycans below. Swords clashed against claws, steel against flesh. Silver blades carved deep wounds into the Lycans, their weakness to the metal making every strike deadly.
Ares charged into the fray in his full Lycan form, his black-furred body towering over his warriors. He lunged at the nearest vampire, his massive claws slashing through flesh and bone. The vampire recoiled, trying to land a kick, but Ares caught his leg and snapped it clean off. With a feral growl, he gripped the vampire’s throat and wrenched his head free from his body, tossing it aside like discarded meat.
From the shadows, two vampires flung silver daggers toward him. He twisted his body, barely avoiding them, but they still slashed his sides. One vampire leapt onto his shoulders, silver rope in hand, attempting to choke him. Ares roared, grabbing the vampire and hurling him against a massive oak tree. The vampire hit hard, and before he could recover, Ares was upon him, his massive fist punching straight through the vampire’s chest and out his back. The tree cracked and fell from the force of the impact.
Ares snarled, blood dripping from his fur as the battlefield roared with chaos around him. His sharp eyes locked onto a vampire charging straight at him—fast, agile, and armed with dual silver daggers that gleamed beneath the moonlight. The vampire darted past fallen Lycans, leaping into the air with blades poised to strike.
Ares didn’t flinch.
Instead, he reached down—massive clawed hands closing around the trunk of the toppled oak tree he’d shattered earlier. With a primal roar, he hoisted the colossal tree from the earth like it weighed nothing, roots dangling and earth crumbling from its base.
The vampire's smirk faded a heartbeat too late.
With a savage swing, Ares brought the tree down like a war hammer. The impact cracked like thunder. Bark and bone exploded in the air as the oak slammed into the vampire mid-air, splintering into shards from the force. The vampire’s body was crushed instantly—flattened beneath the weight of the ancient tree, limbs bent and broken beyond recognition.
Ares stood over the wreckage, his chest heaving, eyes burning. Then, without a pause, he turned back toward the chaos—toward the next kill.
Arrows whistled through the air. One struck Ares' leg, causing him to drop to one knee. Before he could react, a vampire lunged at him. Another came from the opposite direction, ready to deliver a fatal blow.
But Zane arrived first.
The Beta tackled one of the vampires mid-air, sending them crashing into the dirt. With deadly precision, he drove his claws into the vampire’s stomach, then lifted him up and sank his teeth into his throat, tearing out his windpipe. The vampire gurgled, body twitching before going still.
Ares ripped the arrow from his leg and, using it as a weapon, drove it through the skull of the vampire attacking him. The body convulsed before he flung it aside.
Yet, no matter how many fell, the vampires kept coming. Lycans lay dead around them, and the vampires pressed forward, relentless and unyielding.
Then Ares saw them.
A group of vampires breaking away from the main battle, heading toward the heart of the pack—toward his home.
***Thena.***
With a thunderous roar, Ares abandoned the battlefield and sprinted toward his packhouse. His heart pounded in his chest, his vision red with rage and fear.
He burst through the doors, his nose immediately assaulted by the overwhelming scent of blood. The walls and floors were streaked with crimson. Bodies of Lycans and vampires lay scattered like discarded dolls. The deeper he went, the heavier the scent became.
His chamber doors were ajar.
He stormed inside, only to freeze.
Thena lay on the floor, drowning in a pool of her own blood. Her once-glowing skin was marred by deep stab wounds, her body barely recognizable. Around her stood a group of vampires, their blades stained red. They continued to stab, over and over, their movements methodical and merciless.
Something inside Ares snapped.
With a deafening roar, he charged. He grabbed two of the vampires by their heads and slammed them together, their skulls shattering. He turned to the others, but they were already retreating, scaling the chamber walls. By the time he reached the window, they were gone.
He shifted back into human form, dropping to his knees beside Thena. His hands shook as he cradled her broken body, his breaths ragged.
Her blood coated his hands, her warmth fading. He let out a choked cry, pressing his forehead to hers, his world crumbling around him.
The battle outside no longer mattered.
The war no longer mattered.
All that mattered was the woman in his arms, slipping away from him.
And as Ares let out a howl of pure anguish, the night carried his grief across the blood-soaked battlefield.