Chapter 7 - The Wolves Attack
1620 Words
Celina’s POV
I woke to the sound of growls.
Not the low, warning rumble of a wolf keeping watch—this was vicious, hungry.
Rhys was already at the window, muscles tense, eyes scanning the treeline. “Stay here,” he said.
“What’s out there?” My voice barely carried over the pounding in my ears.
“Wolves.” He grabbed his jacket. “Not mine.”
He was out the door before I could stop him.
The first scream—half-human, half-wolf—ripped through the morning air, and my blood iced over. I yanked the door open just in time to see Rhys surrounded.
Four wolves, massive and silver-eyed, closing in. One lunged, teeth sinking into his arm. Another slammed him into the ground.
“Stop!” I screamed, running toward them. “Get off him!”
They didn’t even flinch at my voice. The air was thick with the scent of blood and wet fur.
Rhys swung, catching one in the jaw, but another clamped down on his side. He went down hard, breath ragged.
“Leave him alone!” My throat burned. I was shaking, every instinct telling me to run, but my feet carried me closer.
And then—
The growls stopped.
A deeper sound cut through the chaos: a single, commanding snarl.
Lucien.
He stepped through the fog like the storm had birthed him—dark coat, darker eyes, the kind of authority that made the wolves fall back instantly.
I stared at him, chest heaving. “Call them off!”
“They already have their orders,” he said. His gaze flicked to Rhys, bleeding on the ground. “The question is whether I change them.”
“What?” My voice cracked.
He took a step closer, the mist curling around him like it knew who owned it. “You’re coming with me, Celina.”
Rhys coughed, dragging himself to his knees. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”
Lucien didn’t even look at him. “If you refuse…” His eyes were on me now, cold enough to make my heart stop. “…I tell them to finish him.”
I shook my head. “You wouldn’t—”
“Try me.” His tone was lethal calm. “I warned you the cabin wouldn’t keep you safe. Now you see what’s coming for you. For the child.”
Rhys struggled to stand. “You don’t own her. You don’t get to—”
Lucien’s hand lifted in the smallest signal. Two wolves lunged. Rhys barely blocked one before the other slammed into him, knocking the breath from his lungs.
“Stop it!” I ran forward, shoving at the nearest wolf. “I’ll go! I’ll go, just stop!”
Lucien’s gaze didn’t leave mine. “Say it like you mean it.”
My throat tightened until it hurt. “I’ll come with you. Just let him go.”
The wolves backed off instantly, melting into the treeline like they’d never been there. Rhys was left on the ground, clutching his side, eyes blazing with fury.
“This isn’t protection,” he spat at Lucien. “It’s abduction.”
Lucien’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Call it what you want. She’s safer with me than in a shallow grave.”
I turned to Rhys, my voice barely holding. “I’m sorry.”
“Celina—” His voice broke, and that hurt worse than anything else.
Lucien took my arm—not harshly, but firmly enough to tell me I wasn’t walking away—and led me toward the waiting SUV.
I didn’t look back until the door closed between us and Rhys’s figure disappeared in the mist.
THE ESTATE rose from the mist like a predator crouched in wait.
Stone and shadows. Teeth in the shape of gables.
Lucien’s black SUV crunched up the long gravel drive, and my nails bit into my palms hard enough to hurt. The rain hadn’t stopped since the cabin, and it painted everything slick and sharp—exactly how I imagined the inside of this place would be.
“I’m not staying here,” I said, my voice flat but shaking beneath it.
Lucien didn’t even look at me. His hands gripped the wheel, knuckles pale. “You are.”
“You can’t just—”
“I can.” His tone was final, steel wrapped in ice. “You’re carrying my heir, and there are wolves moving against us. The estate is the only safe place until I get answers.”
“Safe for you,” I snapped. “Not for me.”
His eyes cut toward me briefly, dark and unreadable. “You think I’d let them touch you?”
I didn’t answer. We both knew safety was relative when you were trapped in the same den as the wolf who’d broken you.
The car stopped in front of massive double doors, carved with the sigil of his pack—a crescent moon and two crossed blades. The guards stationed outside didn’t look at me, but I could feel their gazes like pricks along my skin. Lucien was out of the car before I could move, my door swinging open a heartbeat later.
“Celina.” His voice was quieter now, but no less commanding.
I stepped out into the rain. The cold bit at my cheeks, but the warmth of his hand at my elbow was worse—it was grounding and burning all at once.
Inside, the air smelled of cedar and smoke. The foyer stretched up three stories, lit by a chandelier that looked like it had been forged from frozen fire. My boots squeaked faintly on polished stone as he led me deeper.
“This isn’t home,” I murmured.
“No,” he agreed. “It’s a war shelter.”
THEY ARRIVED at dusk.
The Council.
Old wolves with older power, stepping into Lucien’s domain like they owned it. Six of them in total, their movements slow and deliberate, eyes like steel traps. Some wore tailored suits; others leaned into the primal furs draped over their shoulders, hair shot through with silver.
I stood behind Lucien’s chair at the long dining table, feeling more like prey than hostess. The heavy scent of dominance and politics thickened the air until my lungs ached.
The first to speak was Elder Marlowe, his voice deep enough to vibrate through the table. “We hear there is an heir on the way.”
Lucien’s jaw tightened. “You hear correctly.”
Marlowe’s gaze slid to me, lingering just long enough to make my skin crawl. “Then the Council has the right to ensure the bloodline’s legitimacy.”
I stiffened. “Legitimacy?”
Another elder, sharp-faced and wearing a ring with the council seal, smiled without warmth. “If the child is to inherit the Crescent Blades’ seat, we must know without doubt that it is Alpha Lucien’s. Otherwise…”
“Otherwise, what?” I asked before Lucien could answer.
His hand flexed against the armrest of his chair. “Otherwise, they’ll try to strip the child of a place in the line.”
Marlowe leaned forward, his voice low. “Or declare the child a rogue. And rogues are claimed by the Council. For… reassignment.”
Every muscle in my body went tight. “You mean stolen.”
One of the women, Elder Theris, gave a thin smile. “Raised by those who understand the responsibility of such… prophecy blood.”
My head snapped toward her. “What prophecy?”
Silence fell for a beat too long. Lucien’s eyes cut to hers, cold as winter steel. “That is not your concern.”
Theris arched a brow. “It is the concern of any mother whose child could unite—or destroy-the packs.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the elders. I could feel Lucien’s energy coiling tighter, like he was one breath away from baring his teeth.
“What exactly do you want?” he asked.
“A blood oath,” Marlowe said simply. “A binding test that will prove the child’s parentage. You perform it before the next moonrise, and we close this matter. Refuse, and the Council will consider the child a rogue until proven otherwise.”
Lucien’s voice was even, but there was an edge under it that could cut glass. “You’re suggesting I would lie about my own heir.”
“We are ensuring the law is upheld.” Marlowe’s tone never wavered.
My heart pounded so hard I thought they might hear it. “And if the oath says the child is his?” I asked.
Theris smiled again. “Then you both have nothing to fear.”
“And if it doesn’t?” My voice cracked despite myself.
“Then,” she said sweetly, “the Council will act as it must.”
Lucien rose slowly from his chair, the air around him shifting like a storm front. “Get out.”
“Lucien—”
“Now.” His growl wasn’t human anymore.
The elders exchanged glances, but they rose. No one moved quickly; they were wolves who didn’t need to.
One by one, they filed toward the door, until only Theris lingered near me. She leaned in, her perfume laced with something bitter and strange. Her lips barely moved when she whispered:
“Your child carries prophecy blood. Some of us would kill to control it.”
I froze. Her words curled cold and sharp inside me.
When she straightened, her smile was back, and she swept after the others as if she hadn’t just planted a blade in my gut.
- Writer
