The march begins.
Ethan’s POV
The forest trembles beneath the weight of my warriors and me, and each step is a drumbeat of impending violence, boots sinking into the wet earth, the march of my pack, and I lead them north, into the darkness where the enemy waits, unaware of the storm that approaches. The morning is bright, the birds are singing, but I see nothing beyond the thought of her, the fire that once bound my soul and still claws at my chest: Aria, my Luna, the thread I severed only to feel its pull tighten again with every heartbeat, every rustle of leaves, every snapping branch beneath the weight of my pack. I should not have rejected her, should not have let arrogance, desire, and the cruel temptation of something forbidden drag me into betrayal, yet even now, as the wind bites at my face and the river waits ahead like a black mirror, her name is a curse and a prayer that gnaws at me even as I march into war.
Marcus moves beside me, silent and grim. I know his unease runs deep. He smells the threads of Lilith’s venom, feels the tension that coils around me like a serpent, but he keeps it buried, the loyalty in his bones outweighing his judgment.
“Alpha, we cross into Lycan territory before nightfall. This is dangerous. They don’t fight like us. They don’t fight for honour. They fight to annihilate,” he says, voice low, almost lost in the symphony of boots pounding the earth. My teeth bare automatically, my lip curling, a warning that silences anyone who might question me, and I see him bow his head in resignation.
“Good! They will learn I am not afraid of them,” I growl, words slicing the air like steel. My men pick up their pace behind me, driven by the pulse of my command.
“She’s mine,” I mutter under my breath, each word tasting like ash, the thread pulsing faintly, alive, reminding me of what I abandoned, of what I rejected in a moment of weakness and arrogance, and my wolf roars inside me, snapping at the cage of skin and bone, desperate to leap forward, desperate to tear into the world that has dared to place her anywhere but beside me. I hear it then, the hiss of silk slicing through the night air, and I do not need to turn to know. Lilith is there, gliding through the pack like a shadow untethered from fear, her hair glinting in the sunlight, every movement deliberate, every step a provocation meant to unsettle me. No woman belongs on a march like this, but Lilith is not a woman. She is a storm wrapped in human skin, a poison I cannot name, a danger that tempts me even as my wolf snarls in warning. She smiles at me when I glance back, a cruel crescent of amusement and malice, and the world narrows to the edge of her presence, to the reminder of my failure, my lust, my weakness.
“You lead them into death. The Lycans will tear through your pack like paper,” Lilith whispers, her voice carrying far enough that the men tense. I snarl, the sound primal, guttural, and my wolf rumbles in approval, the vibration vibrating through the soles of my feet, and I bare my teeth, letting the scent of anger and dominance pour over her.
“Hold your tongue,” I growl, but she only tilts her head, eyes dark, sharp, unafraid, and for a moment, I see the reflection of the Alpha I failed to be, the man who let a woman slip through his fingers while chasing something far too tempting and dangerous.
“You don’t do this for power. You don’t do this for respect. You do this for Aria. Tell me, Ethan, will your warriors still follow you when they realise you’re dragging them into war over a woman you rejected?” Lilith says. Her words are venom-laced with truth, and my wolf snaps, snapping at the phantom of my failures, slamming visions into my mind I cannot bear: Aria beneath Darius, Aria whispering his name, Aria baring herself to another, the heat and light of our bond twisted into anguish I cannot escape. My hand lashes out before thought, claws extending, and in a blink, I have her throat against the tree, silk stretched over stone and bone, my fury roaring aloud, half for her, half for myself. My men freeze, a mixture of awe and fear, but Marcus steps forward, his voice calm, commanding even as I am unhinged.
“Alpha, the men need you focused on Darius, not distracted by her. Save your rage for him.” The words are enough. My claws retract, releasing Lilith, and she lands gracefully, her smile untouched by the violence I intended. She feeds on violence and death.
We press forward, through the day, and the river like a black mirror, its waters biting, relentless, as though the land itself tests us. We reach the river as the night falls. I step first into the river, teeth gritted, body trembling against the cold, but I push forward. One by one, my pack follows, each step a testament to loyalty. The howl I raise when we reach the opposite bank tears through the night, sharp and unyielding, joined by every wolf in my command, and it is not only a declaration of war, it is a promise, a demand, a vow to reclaim what was never meant to be taken from me. Darius’s grounds are big.
Even as the forest shakes with our voices, even as the Lycans wait somewhere in the dark, I see her face, vivid, sharp, heartbreak and fire mingled in her eyes, and the bond that binds us pulses as if mocking the distance and betrayal. The night I rejected her is seared into my memory, the moment I let her go and handed her to the fate of another like a fool drunk on desire and lust, but she is alive, and the bond remains, faint but unbroken, alive inside me even as rage floods my veins. I lift my hand, claws catching the torchlight, and the words roar from my chest, a vow more terrifying than any battle cry.
“Tomorrow, the King learns he cannot steal from me. Tomorrow, I drag Aria back by her throat if I must. She will kneel before me, or she will bleed. Either way, she will not belong to him,” I say.
The roar of my pack rises behind me, thick and heady, a tide of bloodlust and obedience, and Lilith lingers at the edge of the group, shadows coiling around her like serpents, her eyes glinting in ways no human can control, and I feel Marcus’s warning like a weight on my shoulder.
“Lilith is dangerous, Ethan. More than you realise.” I do not answer, for my gaze is fixed north, to the land where Darius waits, to the Luna who is mine in every way the Moon Goddess ever decreed, and I can feel her, faintly, like the pulse of a hidden river, like a thread tugging at the very essence of my soul.