#72 Attack on the Coven

Attack on the Coven
Belinda POV

I’m tearing down the highway in my convertible, wind whipping my dark hair into a mess, but who cares? I blast the music, some screechy pop track about heartbreak, cranking it so loud it drowns out the road noise.

That fucking bitch Ryanna Varelli, Moon Bound Queen my ass. How dare she humiliate me like that, pinning me with her knife, whispering threats like she’s some fucking goddess? I’m Belinda Voss, daughter of the head beta! I get what I want, always have. And Rhydor was mine, betrothed fair and square. He just up and left, no word, leaving me looking like a fool.

Now I’ll make sure that blonde tramp pays. Cee Dee, my wolf, whines in my head, her voice all soft and annoying. "Belinda, calm down. The goddess has chosen the Moon-Bound Queen. We must not interfere."

I scream over the music, slamming the steering wheel. “I don’t fucking care! That bitch has to go so I can have Rhydor back!”

My eyes burn with tears, heartbreak, rage, whatever. She’s nothing but a mutt playing queen. If anyone can rid the world of her, it’s the Directorate. Daddy reports directly to Alpha Maelira; they’ll handle this.

I floor the gas, the engine roaring as I whip onto the pack road, tires squealing. The guards at the gate lift it without a word, perks of being me, and I speed through the forest of Pack Iron Claws lands, trees blurring like they’re fleeing from my wrath.

I screech to a halt at our massive mansion, tucked deep in the woods like a fortress of luxury. Slamming the door, I lock it with a beep and storm inside, shoving a maid out of my way. She tumbles to the floor with a yelp, but I don’t stop. “Move!” I screech, my heels clicking on the marble.

Daddy’s office is at the end of the hall, and I pound on the door, my knocks like gunshots. “What, Belinda?” he calls, annoyed.

I burst in, mouth open to whine, but my eyes widen. Alpha Maelira’s there, her fierce she-wolf presence filling the room, cool eyes appraising me like I’m a bug. She’s all power, that sleek black hair and sharp features, the kind of alpha who makes lesser wolves cower. I freeze for a second, then it pours out.

“Daddy! I found Rhydor! He’s with some blonde tramp named Ryanna Varelli in Mistmoor lands, shacking up with the coven mother and father! That bitch humiliated me!”

Daddy’s eyes flash with triumph, a sly smile creeping on his face. Maelira leans forward, her voice like ice. “Are they still there?”

I nod, confused, my heart racing. “Yeah, why? What’s going on?”

Maelira’s gaze hardens. “Ryanna Varelli is an enemy of the high court. Her death or capture has been ordered, along with her mates.”

Glee bursts through me like fireworks. “Yes! Just leave Rhydor for me,” I purr, batting my lashes. “He’s mine.”

Maelira glances at Daddy, and he nods, his expression calculating. I grin, triumph surging. She’s gonna get what’s coming to her, that slut thinks she can steal my man? Ha!

Maelira’s already on her phone, barking orders like “Mobilize the unit, target Mistmoor, capture the queen, eliminate the mates.” Daddy stands, heading out the door with a curt nod to me. I spin on my heel, smiling wide, heading to my room. Let them handle the dirty work. Rhydor will be mine again, and Ryanna? She’ll be nothing but a bloody memory.

Ryanna POV

The dining room in Jalynda and Torwyn Lefren’s mansion is a masterpiece of earth magic, vines curling up the walls, a long wooden table groaning under platters of roasted pheasant, herb crusted potatoes, and honey drizzled fruits.

I’m seated with my mates, Kaelan’s golden grin flashing, Lucien’s shadows curling under the table, Rhydor’s black eyes watchful, Darian’s blue gaze sharp, Aedryos’s starfire eyes calm. The ruby pendant Darian gave me glows against my chest, moonflowers tucked into my curls by Aedryos, and Rhydor’s ring glints on my finger.

I feel like a queen, but Syrene’s on edge in my mind, her wise voice tight, like she’s waiting for a storm. Stay sharp, Ry. This peace won’t last.

Jalynda, her pink hair glowing under the chandelier’s soft light, raises a glass, her earthy dress shimmering. “Queen Ryanna, the Crescent Veil pledges our army to your cause,” she says, pride ringing in her voice. “Three hundred witches and warlocks, skilled in earth and illusion magic, will stand with you against the Directorate, the crown, and the gods.”

I’m overjoyed, my heart leaping as I raise my glass. “Fuck, Jalynda, thank you. You don’t know what this means. We’re stronger together.” My mates nod, Kaelan whooping, Lucien smirking, Rhydor grunting approval, Darian calculating, Aedryos steady. Torwyn, stern but warm, toasts, “To the Moon Bound Queen and her star.” Syrene hums, "A true ally, we cherish this."

Before I can say more, a high pitched wail cuts through the air, sharp enough to shatter glass. Torwyn’s storm cloud eyes snap wide. “Outer wards, breached!” He’s up, sprinting for the door, Jalynda right behind, her pink hair flying.

My heart pounds like a goddamn hammer, and I’m on my feet, my mates moving with me like a pack. Syrene growls, low and fierce, "Danger’s here. Directorate stench." I curse under my breath, magic sparking at my fingertips, silver fire ready to burn.

We storm outside, the night air thick with chaos. The coven’s army is already mobilizing, witches and warlocks popping in by the hundreds, teleporting with bursts of green and gold magic, their staffs and wands glowing.

The village is a warzone, cabins lit by spell-light, elders shouting orders, kids ushered to safety. My mates are ready, Kaelan’s pistol drawn, his golden eyes fierce; Lucien’s shadows lashing like whips; Rhydor gripping that massive axe he bought, its runes glowing; Darian’s energy crackling, his gun steady; Aedryos’s fingers sparking with starfire, his calm unshaken.

I scan the darkness, my green eyes blazing, the amethyst necklace tingling against my skin. “What the fuck’s hitting us?” I snarl, spotting Jalynda weaving a massive ward, her hands glowing. Torwyn’s barking orders, directing warlocks to the forest’s edge where shadows move, too fast, too coordinated. Syrene snarls, "Directorate wolves, Ry. Belinda’s stench lingers among them." My blood boils, fucking Belinda, ratting us out.

“Stay tight!” I shout, my Mafia temper flaring as I pull my own pistol, silver-fire magic coiling around it.

Kaelan grins, cocky but ready. “Let’s fuck ‘em up, little wolf!” Lucien’s shadows lash out, scouting ahead. “They’re dead,” he growls. Rhydor steps closer, protective. “Nobody touches you, queen.” Darian’s eyes narrow, analyzing. “Wards are holding, but we need to hit their flank.” Aedryos’s starfire flares brighter. “We end this, my queen.”

The coven army surges forward, spells lighting up the night, and I lead my mates into the fray, Syrene roaring in my head, "Show them our power. This is our fight, and we’re not losing."