Chapter 6 The Hunt Has Begun

The city burned like a warning flare.

From the rooftop of the crumbling cathedral, Lyra watched the flames twist skyward. Black smoke curled into the clouds, staining the stars. What once was a haven had turned into a war zone-and Cassian was already tearing through Damon's defenses with precision and vengeance.

The war wasn't coming. It was already here.

Below, Seraphina's rogue pack readied for battle in the hollowed-out nave of the cathedral. Tension hung in the air like static before a storm. Some of the wolves were half-shifted, their claws glinting as they loaded silver rounds. Others moved silently, eyes glowing in the dim light. There was no fear in the room-only purpose.

Lyra stood at the edge of a shattered stained-glass window, fractured moonlight spilling across her face in reds and golds. The crescent marks on her palms still glowed faintly, a quiet reminder of what she had become.

Of what she now was.

Damon approached from behind, footsteps light, but his presence heavy beside her. "We've got maybe an hour before Cassian hits this place, 'he said. "He's using the underground paths now. He knows every step we take."

Lyra didn't turn around. "Then we stand. I won't run again."

Damon's jaw tightened. "This isn't about pride. If we lose you, we lose everything."

She looked at him finally. "Then don't lose me."

Their eyes locked, something unspoken flickering between them-old pain, a deeper pull, and the remnants of a bond neither had dared name until now.

Down below, Seraphina emerged from the shadows, swords strapped to her back, her gaze sharp. "They're on the move. Five minutes, tops."

Lyra moved to the center of the cathedral. The rogues turned to face her, waiting.

"I know what you all gave up," she began. "Your packs. Your names. Your freedom. They cast you out, called you broken. Wild. But you survived anyway."

Murmurs rippled through the group. Low growls of approval.

"You followed me not because of prophecy," she said, voice rising, "but because you want something more. And tonight, we fight not just to survive-but to be remembered."

The howls that answered her rattled the stained glass still clinging to the cathedral's ribs.

And then, everything went silent.

An instant later, the doors exploded inward.

Cassian's wolves burst through the entrance-dark-armored, snarling, merciless. They didn't wait for orders. They attacked like a storm, like they'd been starving for blood.

Lyra moved on instinct, her body a blur. Her wolf stirred beneath her skin-fur, fangs, fury-but she held the form back. Not yet. She needed control. Every strike was sharp. Every move, precise.

Damon was always close, covering her flank, striking down anyone who got too near. They moved like they'd been born for this-two halves of a whole.

But then, a shadow loomed. One of Cassian's elites-a towering brute with silver-plated claws-snatched her by the shoulder and dragged her back.

She barely had time to gasp before Damon's blade found the wolf's skull, dropping him in a single brutal strike.

"You good?" he called, already turning to face the next wave.

Lyra wiped blood from her face, grimacing. "I'll live."

Then the air changed.

A growl rolled through the cathedral, lower and more ancient than anything she'd ever heard. It stopped everyone in their tracks.

Cassian stepped into the chaos.

He didn't need to shift to command fear. He wore black wolfskin armor etched with ancient runes, and his crimson eyes gleamed beneath the moonlight pouring through the broken dome. He moved with the calm confidence of someone who believed the battle was already won.

He took a long look at Lyra. "So this is the queen?"

His voice was like gravel and smoke.

Lyra stood her ground, blood staining her gown, hands clenched at her sides. "And you must be the relic they dragged out of hiding."

A few gasps. Even Damon paused.

Cassian chuckled. "You've inherited your mother's tongue, I see."

Lyra blinked. "What do you mean?"

Cassian's eyes narrowed. "She didn't tell you, did she? Before she died, your mother and I were to be wed. She was promised to me. That union was meant to fuse two bloodlines-the prophecy was supposed to begin with us."

Lyra felt the floor shift beneath her. "That's a lie."

"No, girl. It's your legacy. She ran from me and took that power with her. And now; he stepped forward, "you carry it. And I'm here to take it back."

He raised his hand.

The wolves surged again.

And the final battle for her crown began.