My breath snagged. The Wintermoon wolves had been testing our borders for moons, but striking our maritime routes?
That was an open challenge to our Crescentblood Domain.
“Is there something wrong?” Marcellus’s tone sharpened instantly, the charming façade dropping as the Alpha in him surfaced.
I slid my hand away, steadying my thoughts. “Wintermoon wolves are stirring trouble near the tidal docks.”
His jaw tensed, the air around him shifting with barely restrained power. “Sorenna’s doing. She’s grown bold since binding herself to Rageclaw.”
“How do you even know about that?”
“As I said, I make it my duty to know what happens across the northern packs.”
He flicked his fingers, signaling the tavern attendant. “We should leave. Those moon-bound shipments matter to my clan as much as yours now.”
I arched a brow. “I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”
“Soon you will.” He stood and extended his hand again. “Because without you even realize, right now you need someone who understands this realm. Someone who knows how to keep Sorenna in line without igniting a full-pack war.”
Another rune buzzed onto my screen. Two of our warriors were down.
“Fine.” I took his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. “But this doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to your… romantic nonsense.”
“Let’s just see.” His eyes gleamed with wolfish confidence as we strode out of the tavern. “First, let’s remind the Wintermoon Pack what happens when they trespass on what belongs to the Crescentblood and Ashenfell.”
The weight of my enchanted blade pressed against my thigh as we hurried toward his obsidian-runed moon-carriage.
Maybe he was right — having someone who understood this life, who didn’t require a gentler version of who I truly was — might be exactly what I needed.
But love? That could wait.
For now, we had a message to deliver.
Marcellus’s shadow-forged vehicle roared down the stone pathways of New Lycan, weaving with supernatural precision. My claws nearly punched through the handle from gripping too hard.
“The southern entry will be guarded,” I said, pulling up the docks’ territorial wards on my screen. “We need another approach.”
“I know one.” Marcellus swung sharply, tires screeching like angry spirits. “Used it centuries ago when the Moon Council sniffed around my… shipments.”
“Your shipments?”