"You arrogant little—mutt!" Lira's voice warped into a snarl, and before Nyma could take another step.
Lira's wolf erupted from her human skin in a snarl of snapping tendons and splintering bone—black as a starless night, eyes twin pits of fire. Saliva strung between her fangs in glistening ropes as she lunged, a killing arc aimed for Nyma's exposed throat.
Time fractured.
The air thickened with the copper tang of impending bloodshed, and in that suspended heartbeat, Nyma understood with crystalline clarity:
One. She could not shift. Her wolf lay dormant, shackled by instinct—the life inside her more precious than vengeance, than survival itself.
Two.She could not run. Her body, heavy with child, would never outpace Lira's murderous grace.
Three. She was not prey.
The realisation struck like lightning. And somehow the world stopped.
Nyma stood frozen as Lira's monstrous wolf form hurtled toward her—a black tempest of fur and fury, death gleaming in those feral eyes. Then—
Heat.
The moonstone locket at her throat pulsed, its silver chain searing into her skin like an unbroken part. White fire licked up her collarbone as ancient power detonated from its core, flooding her veins with liquid lightning.
And then—her voice.
"TAKE MY CLAWS!" Lunara's roar split Nyma's mind like a thunderclap, shaking the very foundation of her soul. For the first time since bonding with Adrain—since surrendering part of her wolf to the mating tie—Lunara surged forward, not as a whisper, but as a tempest.
Power, raw and untamed, tore through Nyma's limbs. Her bones cracked, her fingers elongating into obsidian talons wreathed in ghostly silver flame. The scent of winter storms and blood-soaked earth—Lunara's essence—filled the air.
Nyma's both hands erupted in liquid moonlight—not shifting, but transforming into the claws of her beastly wolf. Its claw deadly gleaming, crackling with storm-like energy. The air itself warped around her, a visible shimmer of power radiating from her body like a second skin.
Lira's fangs connected—and shattered on the shield of Nyma's raised forearm.
Lira's eyes widening in alarm, but she was too far gone in her rage to halt her attack mid-air. Her claws slashed toward Nyma's crackling form, expecting flesh, expecting blood—but instead, her paws was struck with an electric force she had never encountered before.
Lira's beast slammed into her, but instead of taking Nyma down, the impact sent Lira hurtling backward as if she had collided with an unbreakable force. The black she-wolf yelped, her body twisting midair before she crashed to the ground, rolling onto her side with a pained snarl.
The shield repelled her with an explosive shockwave, sending Lira's wolf form careening through the air. She crashed into the dirt, skidding across the ground, her body convulsing from the raw energy still paralysing her veins, the impact of collision with an unbreakable force.
Nyma's entire body vibrated, crackling like a storm on the brink of breaking. Her aura flared like lighting clouds, an electric shield of sheer dominance and unyielding protection wrapping around her like an unseen armour.
A snarl ripped from Lira's throat. Pain lanced through her body, muscles spasming as she fought against the numbing force trying to pin her down. But her fury burned hotter. With a guttural growl, she staggered to her feet, black fur bristling, claws sinking into the earth for stability.
Whereas, Nyma stood unmoved, her brown orbs now turned fully into silver eyes glowing like twin moons holding a storm inside them, her breath steady despite the raging fury inside her. She had no idea what had just happened, but one thing was clear—the moonstone locket and Lunara's energy melted. The locket's power had melted into her skin. It was in her bones.
Nyma stared at her hands. At the silvery energy still dancing over her skin like living lightning. At the protective aura that now coated her body, pulsating with something ancient, untamed, and terrifying.
This wasn't just Lunara. This was something more.
Lira struggled to her feet, shaking off the hit, her amber eyes burning with rage. But she wasn't finished. With a snarl, she pushed herself up, hackles raised, saliva dripping from her snarling maw.
Lira didn't hesitate. She launched forward again, attacking Nyma from backside, her wolf form a dark blur of vengeance, aiming lower this time, trying to rip Nyma's legs from beneath her. Begin distracted, the protective shield flickered—weakening. Lira's claws tore through the shimmering energy and scraped against Nyma's side.
Nyma staggered a bit, silver flames flickering around her, but her chest heaved. The locket's magic had protected her, but the sheer force of it had drained her. She felt the exhaustion creeping in, threatening to buckle her knees, but she couldn't afford to falter. Not now.
Pain flared white-hot. Nyma gasped as blood bloomed beneath the tear in her dress. The shield had dulled the blow, but it hadn't stopped it completely. She stumbled back, hand clutching her side as crimson seeped between her fingers. The locket's glow pulsed erratically, as if struggling against the strain of shielding both her and the child she carried.
Lira's wolf landed gracefully before Nyma, wrathful eyes locked onto her prey. The taste of Nyma's blood in the air sent another jolt of savage satisfaction through her veins.
"You think a little magic makes you untouchable?"Lira's voice was guttural, rough from the half-shift. "I'll tear that pup out of you myself!"
Nyma's vision blurred with white-hot rage.
The air crackled.
No one touched her pup.
Nyma gritted her teeth, forcing herself to straighten.
With an unnatural speed, Nyma lunged—not even in wolf form, yet faster than any werewolf had a right to be.
Lira lunged again, but this time Nyma moved, swift as lightning. She dodged, pivoted, and struck—a single, precise slash of her silver claws tearing across Lira's shoulder. The dark wolf howled in agony, stumbling back as blood bloomed across her fur, staining it deep crimson.
Lira barely had time to recover before Nyma moved again, delivering a punishing strike to her ribs, sending her skidding across the forest floor. The she-wolf coughed, her body quivering from the force of the blows.
Nyma stalked forward, her steps slow and deliberate, like a predator savoring the fear in its prey. Lira whimpered, her body shaking from pain and exhaustion, yet her pride forced her to stand once more.
Lira barely had time to react before Nyma's silver claws sank into her side.
A sickening crack filled the clearing as Nyma twisted, throwing Lira across the field like she weighed nothing. The black wolf hit the ground hard, tumbling in a cloud of dirt and frost before crashing against another post.
This time, Lira didn't get up immediately.
"Stay. Down." Nyma's voice was not a plea, not a request—it was an order, woven with an alpha's power, laced with something even greater.
Lira let out a defiant snarl, but her body betrayed her. Her legs trembled, her breaths came out in ragged pants. Blood dripped from her wounds, pooling beneath her paws. She had lost, and she knew it.
Adrian, still on his knees, watched the scene with wide, disbelieving eyes. This was not the Nyma he had known. This was a force beyond comprehension, a power that commanded the very air around her.
Nyma flexed her silver claws before retracting them, her body still humming with the residual energy.
Nyma stalked forward, her silver eyes gleaming like twin moons in the darkness, her every step charged with power. She was no longer just a Luna. No longer just a woman betrayed.
She was something else entirely.
Lira growled, blood dripping from her mouth as she staggered onto her paws.
Too slow.
Nyma was already there.
Her claws slashed across Lira's chest, deep enough to cut through fur, flesh, and muscle. A piercing yelp escaped Lira's throat as she stumbled back, her black fur now streaked with crimson.
Before she could react, Nyma struck again, a devastating kick to her ribs that sent her sprawling onto the ground.
Lira gasped, struggling to breathe.
Nyma crouched over her, eyes still glowing, claws dripping with blood.
"You are nothing to him," Nyma whispered, her voice like a death sentence. "And you are nothing to me."
Lira bared her teeth weakly, but the fight had bled out of her. Satisfied, Nyma straightened, wiping Lira's blood off her claws with eerie calm on her wolf's fur.
"Next time, I won't miss your throat." Then she turned—and walked away, leaving behind a broken prince, a scarred mistress, and the echo of power no Lycan had witnessed in centuries.