The stone corridors shook with another explosion, dust drifting from the ceiling like falling ash. Eleanor sprinted after Adam's half-shifted form, her dagger flashing in her grip.
The east tower was burning.
Smoke curled through one of the shattered archways, carrying the scent of scorched iron and Thorne steel. That scent hit Eleanor like a fist.
Her father's soldiers were already inside.
Adam slammed through the final door leading to the tower stairwell, his massive wolf-form ripping it from its hinges. The roar that followed shook the hallway.
Intruders. Pack-thieves. Thorne warriors.
Eleanor didn't need the bond to know what he felt.
This was war.
She raced up the spiral steps behind him, her heartbeat thrumming, her breath hot in her lungs. Every step echoed with screams, clashing metal, and the guttural snarls of wolves shifting.
When they reached the top landing, the scene froze her.
Bodies.
Smoke.
Silver-tipped arrows embedded in stone.
Nightfang wolves lay bleeding across the floor—some dead, some barely alive.
And standing in the middle of it all, the last Thorne scout twisted a blade out of a Nightfang warrior's chest before turning, smirking at her.
"Princess Eleanor," the man said, bowing mockingly. "Your father sends his regards."
Before she could react, Adam lunged.
His jaws closed around the man's sword arm with a sickening crunch. The scout screamed, dropped his blade, and Adam slammed him against the stone wall hard enough to crack it.
"Adam—wait!" Eleanor shouted.
But Adam wasn't listening.
He wasn't Adam.
His golden eyes had gone pure black.
Zakriel—the shadow spirit—had risen.
The air turned colder. The torches flickered. Adam's entire body trembled with the struggle to stay in control.
Eleanor rushed forward, slipping between him and the dying scout.
"Adam!" she yelled, gripping his fur. "Stop! Look at me!"
The beast snarled in her face.
Not a warning.
A threat.
The Thorne scout laughed weakly, coughing blood. "You see it now, princess? The curse your father put there? That's why you were sent. Not to kill the Alpha—"
His voice cracked into a coughing fit.
"—but to kill the monster inside him."
Eleanor froze.
This scout knew.
He knew everything.
"Tell me exactly what Alphonsus wants!" she demanded.
The man smirked through the blood. "He wants his daughter back. And he wants Draven's curse broken before the full moon. Or the beast consumes him forever."
Eleanor's breath caught.
The full moon was in three days.
Adam snarled, tail slashing the air, claws digging into stone. The shadow within him pulsed like a heartbeat.
He wouldn't hold on much longer.
Eleanor planted herself in front of him, chest pressed to his, grabbing his fur, forcing his gaze down to hers.
"Adam!" she shouted again. "LISTEN to me!"
Black eyes stared at her, consumed by the beast. He leaned forward, muzzle brushing her neck—not in affection.
In warning.
He was seconds from tearing into anything that moved.
Even her.
And the bond burned with the threat.
Her heart raced. Her lungs trembled.
"Adam," she whispered, lowering her voice. "Come back. I need you."
The bond pulsed once — a hot, painful throb.
Adam shook violently.
The shadow fought harder, his body shuddering, claws scraping against the stone floor. The beast wanted to lunge, to kill, to tear—
So she did the one thing she never imagined she would do:
Eleanor pressed her forehead to his and whispered, "I'm here. I'm not leaving you."
Something in him broke.
The darkness retreated just enough for gold to shine through.
He slumped forward, huge head dropping onto her shoulder, breath ragged, body trembling from the internal battle.
Eleanor exhaled shakily, stroking his fur.
"Good," she breathed. "Stay with me. Stay."
But the scout coughed again, this time louder. "He won't last. Not without the ritual."
Eleanor's eyes snapped to him. "What ritual?"
The scout smiled weakly. "Your father calls it the Moon Severing… but the true name is the Bond Breaker."
Her stomach dropped.
Adam lifted his head, black and gold flickering violently across his eyes. He was trying—fighting—to hear.
Eleanor whispered, "A bond breaker?"
The scout chuckled. "Don't worry, princess. It won't kill you. Just him."
Everything in Eleanor went numb.
Her father didn't send her here to kill Adam.
He sent her to be the weapon that lured him into a ritual designed to kill him from her side of the bond.
Her hand tightened on Adam's fur.
He sensed her turmoil and nudged her chest with his head, a low growl rumbling deep in him—protective despite the pain.
She didn't realize she was crying until a tear fell on his muzzle.
"Eleanor," the scout said with a bloody grin, "your father always did love efficiency."
He reached for his belt.
Eleanor reacted instantly—throwing her dagger.
It struck him between the eyes.
The man died instantly.
The room fell silent except for Adam's ragged breathing.
Slowly, painfully, he shifted back into human form. The transformation was messy, skin cracking, muscles trembling, sweat and blood streaking down his body.
He fell to one knee.
Eleanor caught him before he collapsed completely, her hands gripping his shoulders, his weight heavy against her.
He looked up at her through half-shifted eyes.
"What… did he say?" Adam rasped.
Eleanor brushed blood from his cheek.
"Nothing," she whispered. "Nothing that matters."
Adam grabbed her wrist, holding her tight despite his weakness.
"You're lying," he breathed.
She didn't deny it.
He leaned forward until his forehead pressed to hers, breath hot and uneven.
"Tell me," he murmured. "Eleanor… what is Alphonsus planning?"
Her voice trembled.
"He wants to destroy you," she said finally. "Through me."
Adam didn't flinch.
His grip tightened on her waist.
"Then he'll have to take you from me first."
The words sank into her skin like heat.
Dangerous.
Possessive.
A promise and a threat.
Eleanor swallowed hard.
The bond pulsed again.
And somewhere deep in the Nightfang fortress, a horn sounded—long and low.
More Thorne forces.
The real attack had only just begun.
Adam stood shakily, still holding her, eyes burning with a mix of fury and devotion.
"This war," he said, "begins tonight."
And Eleanor, breath caught in her throat, realized something terrifying:
She wasn't sure if she wanted her father to win anymore.