The world blurred around Sera.
She barely remembered how she got outside. One moment she was inside the penthouse, Lucien's eyes boring into hers—and the next, the wind was slamming against her skin, night pressing in from all sides, her blood pulsing like wildfire.
The city lights shimmered beneath her bare feet as she stood on the rooftop, heart thundering.
Something was happening.
Her bones ached. Her skin burned.
And in her ears, a deep, guttural sound she didn't recognize at first—until she realized…
…it was her own growl.
Lucien was beside her in a flash, his hand gripping her shoulder. "You're shifting."
"No—I can't—I don't know how—" Sera's body shook violently. Her vision sharpened. Every sound in the city rang out with deafening clarity—the flapping of wings, the buzz of neon, the slow, stalking steps of something moving in the alley below.
"You don't fight it," Lucien said, voice low, steady, and commanding. "You feel it. Let it rise through you. Let it claim you."
She gasped.
Pain.
Pleasure.
Terror.
Ecstasy.
It all surged through her at once. She dropped to her knees, fingers digging into the concrete.
Lucien knelt beside her, pulling her into his arms. "Breathe through it, little wolf. I've got you."
Her breath hitched. Her body arched.
And then the shift began.
Down Below – The Streets
The rogue wolves moved like shadows, unseen by the human world but very real to the pack.
Veylor led them, his face partially masked by a black hood, amber eyes glowing with hunger.
"She's shifting," one of his wolves said, panting. "It's her first."
Veylor grinned. "Perfect timing. She'll be disoriented. Vulnerable."
"She's with the Alpha."
Veylor's smile twisted. "Then let him watch while I rip his little mate apart."
He lifted a hand and signaled forward.
"Tonight, we bleed the city."
Back on the Rooftop
Sera's scream split the night—wild, inhuman, raw. But it wasn't a scream of pain anymore.
It was power.
The transformation rolled through her like fire. Her body cracked, shifted, reshaped—but unlike anything Lucien had ever seen. Her wolf form was smaller than his but elegant and deadly, her fur a shimmering black streaked with threads of silver. Her eyes, when she lifted them, were bright white—glowing with something more than just the wolf.
"Moonblood," Lucien whispered, awestruck.
She wasn't just a shifter.
She was something older. Purer.
The bloodline that came before the packs. Before the politics. Before the war.
Sera blinked and looked at him.
"Lucien," she said—not with words, but inside his mind.
He gasped, stumbling back. Telepathy? Already?
Her voice filled his head. "I remember now."
Lucien's blood ran cold. "Remember what?"
Sera stepped toward him, her lithe wolf form rippling with power.
"I saw my mother's death. It wasn't rogues."
He swallowed.
"It was someone from your pack."
The rooftop door slammed open behind them.
A black-clad figure burst through, snarling, eyes blazing.
"Alpha!" one of Lucien's guards shouted. "They're here!"
Chaos
Wolves burst onto the rooftop—Lucien's guards clashing with Veylor's rogues in a brutal, bloody battle.
Teeth met flesh. Bones snapped. Blood sprayed across the rooftop tiles.
Lucien shifted mid-leap, his massive black wolf form charging into the fray. He tore through two rogues instantly, his rage unrelenting.
Sera fought beside him, fast and elegant, her moves guided by something ancient. She ducked, slashed, twisted with lethal grace, a blur of shadow and silver.
Their minds remained linked.
"Don't die on me," she growled into his head.
"Wasn't planning on it."
But then—Veylor stepped forward.
He wasn't like the others. He moved like a ghost, silent and cruel.
He stared at Sera, then spoke aloud.
"Daughter of the Moonblood. Your father died at my hands. I wonder if you'll scream like he did."
Sera snarled, lunging at him—but he was fast, grabbing her mid-leap and slamming her into the rooftop wall with bone-crushing force.
Lucien howled, charging toward them—but Veylor was ready.
With one wicked swipe of his claws, he slashed deep into Lucien's side, sending the Alpha sprawling.
Sera's wolf eyes burned white.
The wind stopped.
Time seemed to slow.
The blood in the air thickened.
And then—Sera rose to her feet, not as a girl, not as a lover, not even as a wolf.
But as something more.
The sky cracked above them.
The moon turned red.
And every wolf froze.