Chapter 52

ELENA

Shifting was always strange. Like being peeled apart and stitched back together, breathless and brimming with something ancient.

And then I was Nox.

The world changed. Light fractured sharper. Sounds layered in ways the human ear could never catch. I could hear Derek’s heartbeat hammering in his chest. Smell the metallic tang of Logan’s tension like a storm waiting to snap.

I planted myself between them, paws spread, hackles raised, and snarled.

Nox’s snarl wasn’t just sound—it was a command. It rang out like thunder. A threat. A warning. A promise.

Erebus hesitated. Ares stiffened.

They didn’t move, but they didn’t back down either.

So I bit them both.

Quick snaps—one to each of their forelegs. Enough to sting. Enough to bleed. Enough to remind them that whatever grudges they were nursing, I was the one in control right now.

These two arrogant, overgrown, testosterone-addled wolves.

Erebus and Ares.

Derek and Logan.

They'd squared off like two rival Alphas fighting for territory, as if the dozens of injured wolves lying across broken glass and blood-soaked marble meant nothing. As if the world outside their bruised egos had fallen silent just for them to posture and growl.

Idiots.

I let out another snarl that echoed off the shattered restaurant walls, daring either of them to make another move.

They didn’t.

Derek’s wolf, massive and shadow-dark, finally stepped back, though not without a reluctant shake of his fur and a low grumble deep in his chest. Logan’s Ares followed, his hackles smoothing, his tail lowering. His blue eyes were flat, unreadable.

Good. They were listening.

I stood between them a beat longer, copper fur bristling, the heat of the fight still pumping through my veins. I had not let Nox come out to play in so long that fighting had almost felt like a relief.

But I didn’t let myself dwell on the thought.

I turned and padded toward a toppled chair, where the hem of a white tablecloth fluttered in the breeze from a broken window. I crouched, centered myself, and shifted back.

The change rolled over me like fire and water—burning and cooling all at once. That grind of bone and twist of muscle. That part of your brain that shifts from wolf back to human.

When it was done, I stood in my human skin again, bare under the wreckage and open sky, my breath coming fast. Blood streaked my arms. Smoke curled in the air around us.

The scent of burning wood and singed cloth mingled with blood and sweat and something darker—old magic, maybe. Or fear.

I took a moment and thanked Nox for all she had done for me.

Not far from me, Logan shifted next. His transformation was smooth, practiced. He stood, hands braced on his thighs, taking a breath before moving toward one of the shattered shopfronts.

A clothing boutique, it looked like. The windows were blown out, mannequins toppled in the wreckage. He stepped through the mess, searching for something to wear.

I looked over just in time to see Derek change too—his shift more aggressive, all sharp lines and clenched fists. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even glance at the boutique.

Instead, he strode to a table—half-collapsed under a broken chandelier—and ripped the linen cloth off with one clean tug. A moment later, the weight of it settled around my shoulders.

I looked up.

He stood right behind me, shirtless, bruised, covered in rogue blood—and still thinking about me.

There was no smirk. No pointed glance at my bare skin. Just something calm and quiet in his eyes as he draped the fabric around me, his fingers brushing my arm in a way that felt both accidental and intentional.

I wasn’t embarrassed. Werewolves didn’t tend to be shy about nudity—it came with the territory.

But this… this felt different.

He didn’t look away, but he didn’t leer either. He just stood there, solid and still, like the chaos around us didn’t matter as long as I was covered.

I hadn’t felt small in years. Not since I was a child.

But in that moment, I felt… protected.

Not owned. Not controlled.

Protected.

I hated how that made my chest ache.

Because it meant part of me still remembered what it was like when he looked at me like this every day.

And part of me missed it.

Across the room, Logan emerged with a wrinkled pair of slacks and a jacket thrown over his arm. He saw the tablecloth draped around me. Saw Derek standing close.

And froze. Just for a moment.

There was a stiffness in his spine that hadn’t been there a moment ago. He said nothing, just pulled on the clothes he’d taken from the store and turned away slightly as he fastened the buttons.

For a moment, none of us spoke.

We were breathing too hard, trying to come back to ourselves. The silence wasn’t peaceful—it crackled with tension. The air still smelled like smoke and blood, adrenaline and burning wood. Somewhere deeper in the hotel, someone was still howling—an injured wolf, maybe, or one mourning the dead.

My legs ached. My throat burned. My ribs were sore from the impact of the shift.

Still, I didn’t move.

Tension pulsed between the three of us, but there was no time to unravel it.

My attention shifted to the chaos still unfolding around us.

Water was coming down in a soft mist from the fire suppression system, which had put out most of the fires. The last of the rogues had either fled or been torn apart.

The restaurant—like the rest of the summit building—was a warzone. Broken chandeliers. Blood on the dance floor. Cracked stone, overturned furniture.

And through the haze, I saw something else.

Wolves.

From every pack.

Coming together.

A Ridgewood Beta was helping a Silverclaw warrior to his feet. An Aspenrun healer was bandaging a Moonstone soldier. Logan had stood beside Derek in battle. I had seen it with my own eyes.

My stomach twisted.

I turned back to them—Logan, now dressed, tense. Derek, still shirtless—turned his eyes to fix them on me.

“This wasn’t about splitting us apart,” I said slowly, the words tumbling out as the realization hit me. “They had to know we’d fight together if they attacked here. At the summit. Every pack has warriors here. Even if the alliance wasn’t formalized yet, we’re wolves. Instinct kicks in. We defend.”

Logan’s brows furrowed. Derek was already nodding.

“So then why?” I asked. “Why would they come here, knowing we’d unite against them? Knowing they’d lose?”

Derek didn’t answer right away. He just looked around—at the blood, the rubble, the bodies.

Then he met my eyes.

His voice was low. Certain.

“They wanted us to know that they could.”

The words hung in the air like smoke.

Logan muttered a curse and turned away, heading toward a group of injured Alphas gathering near the exit.

I stared after him.

The implication settled in my gut like ice.

This wasn’t a desperate attack.

It wasn’t a random raid.

It was a message.

And we’d just received it, loud and clear.