Luna Betrayed by Her Alpha

Ava's body went rigid beneath my hands.

Not the stillness of unconsciousness. Worse. Her spine arched, muscles locking, tendons standing out like cords beneath her skin. A convulsion. The silver was attacking her heart.

"No." The word ripped from my throat. "No, no, no—"

I grabbed her shoulders, trying to hold her steady, but she thrashed against me. Her eyes rolled back, showing only whites. Foam flecked her lips. The silver dust kept falling, coating her face, her hair, burning through her clothes.

The pillar. There was a support pillar near the center of the solarium, casting a thin shadow. Not much. But something.

I hooked my arms under Ava's and dragged. My blistered hands screamed. The silver-laced floor tore through my dress, searing my knees. I didn't care. I pulled her into that sliver of shade and threw myself over her body.

The silver dust landed on my back instead. On my shoulders. In my hair. Each particle a tiny brand, burning, burning, burning.

My wolf stirred.

Not the frightened whimper I'd felt before. Something else. Something I'd never felt from her in all my years as Luna.

Rage.

Pure, murderous, bone-deep rage.

She didn't retreat. She surged forward, pressing against my consciousness, and for the first time in my life, I heard her growl. Not in fear. In fury.

*Kill,* she snarled. *Kill her. Rip out her throat. Make her pay.*

The violence of it shocked me. My gentle wolf, who'd never challenged anyone, who'd always submitted to pack hierarchy, wanted blood.

I wanted blood.

Ava convulsed again beneath me. Her heartbeat stuttered against my chest, irregular and weak. The mate bond with Adriel was a cold, dead thing, but I could still feel pack bonds, and Ava's was fading. Dimming like a candle in the wind.

"Hold on," I whispered against her hair. "Please, Ava. Hold on."

Footsteps outside. Heavy. Running.

I lifted my head, squinting through the silver haze. Shapes moved beyond the glass—large, dark figures. Not the Beta guards. These were bigger, broader, moving with a predator's grace.

One of them stopped. His head turned toward the solarium.

Then he was running. They all were.

"Stand down!" Marcus Stone's voice, sharp with authority. "Alpha's orders—the solarium is off-limits!"

The lead warrior didn't slow. He was massive, easily seven feet, with shoulders that could break through walls. His eyes—I could see them even through the glass—glowed amber.

Lycan.

"I said stand down!" Marcus moved to block him.

The warrior's hand shot out. He grabbed Marcus by the throat and threw him aside like he weighed nothing. Marcus hit the ground hard, gasping.

The warrior's fist slammed into the glass.

The reinforced wall spiderwebbed. He hit it again. Again. The other warriors joined him, their combined strength shattering what was supposed to be unbreakable.

Glass exploded inward.

Fresh air rushed in, sweet and clean and perfect. I gasped, filling my lungs, feeling my wolf surge with relief.

The lead warrior vaulted through the opening. His eyes found me immediately, then dropped to Ava's convulsing form. His expression went hard.

"Healer," he barked over his shoulder. "Now."

He moved toward us, hands outstretched.

"Wait." My voice came out hoarse, raw. "Don't touch us yet."

He froze. "Luna, you need—"

"Smell us." I shifted, still shielding Ava but exposing our silver-dusted clothes. "All of you. Smell us. Remember it."

The warrior's eyes narrowed. Then understanding flickered across his face. He leaned in, inhaling deeply. His nostrils flared.

"Silver dust," he said. "Wolfsbane traces. And..." His expression darkened. "Jasmine. Expensive perfume. Recent."

"Halle Perry's perfume," I said. Each word hurt. "She locked us in here. She activated the vents. She watched us die."

The other warriors had gathered at the broken wall. The lead warrior gestured them forward. "All of you. Witness this. Smell them. Remember every detail."

They came, one by one, their faces growing grimmer with each inhalation. Six warriors. Six witnesses to attempted murder.

"Now get us to the hospital," I said.

The lead warrior scooped Ava up like she weighed nothing. Another reached for me, but I shook my head. "I can walk."

I couldn't. My legs gave out after three steps. Strong arms caught me, lifted me. The world blurred as we moved, fast, faster than any human could run.

The Pack Hospital materialized around us. White walls. Bright lights. The sharp scent of antiseptic cutting through the lingering smell of silver and jasmine.

"Critical patient!" The lead warrior's voice boomed through the corridor. "Silver poisoning, cardiac distress!"

A woman appeared—tall, dark-haired, with the confident stride of someone who'd seen everything. Head Healer Elena Rivers. I recognized her from pack gatherings.

Her eyes swept over Ava, and her expression went cold and professional. "Trauma room one. Now."

They disappeared through double doors. I tried to follow, but hands held me back.

"Luna, you need treatment too," someone said.

Elena reappeared. "Get her in room two. Full burn protocol. I'll be there in five minutes."

"I need to stay with Ava—"

"You need to let me save her life." Elena's voice was firm but not unkind. "I can't do that with you in the way."

They guided me to another room. Laid me on a bed. Someone tried to clean the silver dust from my skin, and I hissed at the pain.

Elena came in, moving fast, her hands glowing with soft green light. Healer magic. She pressed her palms to my burns, and the pain eased slightly.

"Ava?" I asked.

"Critical. The silver attacked her heart. I've induced a magical coma to slow the poisoning, but..." Elena's jaw tightened. "It's bad, Luna. Very bad."

She reached for a syringe. "This will help you sleep—"

"No." I caught her wrist. "No sedatives."

"Luna, you need rest—"

"I need to be awake." My voice came out harder than I'd ever heard it. "Treat the burns. Nothing else."

Elena studied me for a long moment. Then she nodded and set the syringe aside.

She worked in silence, her magic knitting the worst of the damage. When she finished, she helped me to a chair beside Ava's bed.

Ava lay still, too still, her skin gray beneath the oxygen mask. Monitors beeped steadily, tracking her failing heart.

I took her hand. The skin was cold, papery.

"He will pay," I whispered.

Not a question. Not a hope. A promise.

My wolf growled her agreement, and for once, we were perfectly, terribly aligned.