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Theon doesn’t get the chance to step closer to the window.

The wind changes—sharp, carrying a stench that makes his Lycan bare its teeth inside him. Wet fur. Unwashed bodies. The copper tang of blood. It slides down his throat like a warning.

Then the sound hits. Feet pounding earth. The dull rhythm builds fast, layered with low snarls that break the silence in jagged bursts. His instincts prickle, too many steps, they are close.

“Move,” Theon snaps, turning from the corpse. His voice is deep and sharp, an alpha tone that is unquestionable.

Bernardo’s hand is already on his dagger, the grip familiar, worn from years of use. His eyes narrow toward the back door. “We’ve got company.” His tone is calm, but the faint tilt of his chin tells Theon he’s already counted at least four separate directions of approach.

The first shape breaks from the treeline—massive, fur matted, eyes wild. A rogue wolf. Then another. And another. By the time Theon’s claws extend, there are seven of them, fanning out, teeth bared, their breath misting in the cold night air.

Above their heads, the air thickens, like smoke without scent. Three cloaked figures appear as if peeled from the darkness itself, their hoods deep, faces shadowed. Their hands move in strange, sharp gestures, fingers slicing through the space between them and their prey.

“Cloaked sorcerers,” Bianca breathes. Her fingers curl and a faint glow swells in her palms, blue light flickering like trapped lightning. “Perfect.”

Theon doesn’t waste time. “Bernardo, with me—keep them off the women.”

Bernardo grins grimly, shifting his stance. “Wouldn’t dream of letting them get a scratch.”

The rogues come fast—faster than the average wolf, hunger and rage twisting their movements. Theon meets the first mid-leap. The impact shudders through his bones. Its breath reeks of rot. He digs his claws deep into its side and throws it off, sending it crashing into a tree trunk with a sickening thud.

Another is already there, hitting his flank hard enough to force a grunt out of him. He spins with the momentum, catching it by the throat and slamming it down. The ground shakes beneath the weight.

Bernardo’s blade flashes in the dim light, a quick arc of steel cutting across a rogue’s snout. It yelps but lunges again, ignoring the blood dripping from its face. Bernardo sidesteps neatly, stabbing deep into its ribs. Hot blood sprays across his forearm.

Behind them, the sorcerers chant—low, guttural tones that feel wrong in the air, like whispers from something buried. Their words scratch at the edges of thought, pulling focus even without meaning to.

Bianca steps forward, both hands raised. Blue light bursts from her palms, the force of it humming in the air before it slams into the chest of the nearest cloaked figure. The impact makes it stumble, the hood shifting just enough for a flash of pale skin and blackened eyes to show.

“Help me with them,” she shouts to Lumina, her voice strained against the sound of the chant.

Lumina’s coat slips back, revealing the slender dagger strapped to her thigh. But she doesn’t draw it. Instead, she spreads her fingers, her lips moving in a language older than the soil beneath them. The air around her ripples, heat and cold colliding in a shimmer.

A bolt of green light streaks toward her. Lumina twists aside, the magic hissing as it scorches the floor where she’d been standing. The scent of burnt wood rises, sharp and acrid.

Theon hears the hiss of magic, but another rogue lunges before he can glance back. Its claws rake across his chest, but the cut is shallow. He catches its muzzle in one hand, forcing its jaws shut, and snaps its neck with a short, brutal twist.

Bernardo’s surrounded by three at once now, their bodies circling him like sharks. His blade moves fast, cutting one across the belly before ducking under another’s swipe. Sweat beads on his forehead despite the cold.

“Bernardo!” Theon calls, ramming his shoulder into a wolf aiming for his Beta’s back. The impact knocks the air out of it. He plants his claws in its side, tearing it open. Pain spikes in his arm—fresh claws slicing deep…but he pushes through it, his breathing rough but controlled.

A blast of heat rushes past his face. He turns in time to see one of the sorcerers ignite in Bianca’s magic, body disintegrating into ash mid-scream. The sound cuts off in an instant.

“One down,” she mutters, not looking away from the others.

The remaining two exchange a look that Theon doesn’t like… a quick knowing glance. Then they vanish. Just gone, leaving only the faint disturbance of air in their wake.

The rogues falter. Their heads jerk toward the treeline before they start retreating, movements jerky and uncoordinated, like puppets with slack strings. Theon grabs one by the scruff before it can flee, snapping its spine with a wet crack.

The rest melt into the shadows between the trees. Silence swells in their absence—thick, heavy.

Theon straightens, scanning the trees. Every rustle feels like it’s coming from too far, like the forest itself is holding its breath. “They’ll be back. Or send worse.”

Bernardo wipes his blade on the grass, breathing hard. “We were lucky they didn’t push harder.”

“No,” Theon says, still watching the dark. “They wanted to test us.”

Bianca’s glow fades as she lowers her hands, her attention shifting toward Lumina. The woman is already kneeling by Melissa’s body, her movements careful, almost reverent.

“What are you doing?” Bianca asks, stepping closer.

Lumina doesn’t answer at first. She grips the hem of her gown, pulling until the fabric tears in a strip. The sound is small but sharp in the stillness. She folds it neatly, then presses it gently to Melissa’s wrist.

Theon frowns. “She’s gone, Lumina. You don’t need to—”

“I know she’s gone,” Lumina cuts in, her voice tight. She lifts the strip, revealing a smudge in the faint light—reddish-brown, barely visible.

Bianca’s brows draw together. “That’s… dried blood.”

“Yes.” Lumina folds the cloth again, her hands precise, her jaw locked. “It’s hers.”

Bernardo tilts his head. “And you need it why?”

Lumina finally looks up, meeting Bianca’s eyes first. “I want to try something. Another ritual. If I can’t break the curse she set, maybe I can heal my son. That might weaken it. Maybe… just enough.”

Bianca’s eyes narrow, disbelief shadowing her features. “You think you can undo blood magic with… more blood magic? Hers? That curse was sealed with her life. You saw the circle. You said yourself it could kill you.”

“I know what I said,” Lumina replies, low. “And I know what I’m risking. But if there’s even the smallest chance it could work, I have to take it.”

Theon watches her, his Lycan restless. He’s seen that look before—someone with nothing left to lose. “And if it doesn’t work?”

“Then it doesn’t work,” Lumina says simply. “But at least I tried.”

Bianca shakes her head. “Tried? This isn’t a coin toss, Lumina. You could die.”

“I’ve already been dying a little every day,” Lumina murmurs. She glances at Melissa’s face one last time before tucking the folded cloth into her coat. “Losing him will finish the job.”

Silence stretches for a beat. The wind rattles the shutters, and somewhere far off, a wolf howls—long, mournful.

Theon steps toward the door, scanning the tree line again. “We move before they regroup. This place isn’t safe anymore.”

Bernardo nods, already heading toward the hallway.

Bianca lingers a second longer, her gaze flicking between Lumina and the bloodied cloth. “You’re sure about this?”

Lumina’s answer is quiet, but firm. “I have to be.”