The warning horn's cry vibrated through the fortress walls, long and mournful as a dying beast. Eleanor felt Adam stiffen beside her, every muscle tensing with instinct and fury.
"Thorne forces," he growled. "More than scouts this time."
He pushed himself upright, still unsteady from the near-possession. Eleanor slipped an arm under his, steadying him even as her mind spun with dread.
"Adam, you're not recovered—"
"I don't get to wait." His voice was hard, sharp. "Not when your father is at my gates."
A crash echoed from below—splintering wood, snarling wolves, the unmistakable clash of soldiers pouring into the courtyard.
The real battle had begun.
Adam glanced at her—breathing hard, skin slick with sweat, the last traces of shadow still flickering behind his eyes.
"You fight beside me," he said. Not a question. A command wrapped in desperation. "I won't have you taken."
"And I won't let you die," she shot back.
Their gazes locked—both terrified to lose the other, both trying not to show it.
Then they ran.
---
The Courtyard War
The Nightfang courtyard was chaos.
Wolves clashed with Thorne soldiers, silver blades slicing through moonlit air. Flaming arrows rained down from the outer walls, lighting the stone with streaks of gold and blood-red.
The moment the attackers saw Adam, several archers readied their weapons.
"DRAVEN IS WOUNDED!" one shouted.
Eleanor's eyes widened.
They knew.
They were aiming to finish the job the scout had failed.
"Adam—down!"
She slammed into him, forcing him behind a crumbling column just as a volley of silver-tipped arrows embedded into the stone where he'd been standing.
Adam snarled, his eyes darkening again.
Eleanor grabbed his face between both hands. "Stay with me! Don't let the shadow take you now!"
He shuddered, fighting for control.
Another explosion rocked the courtyard, sending bodies flying. Dust and fire billowed into the air, and Eleanor felt Adam brace her instinctively, shielding her from falling debris.
When the smoke cleared—
A towering figure stepped into the courtyard.
Alphonsus Thorne's lieutenant.
Gregor the Ironwolf.
Seven feet tall. Covered in battle marks. Armor etched with Thorne sigils.
His gaze landed on Eleanor first.
Then Adam.
His lips curled into a cruel smile. "The princess and her mate. How touching."
Adam pushed Eleanor behind him slowly. "If you want her," he growled, "you'll have to get through me."
"Gladly," Gregor said.
He charged.
Adam met him head-on—two monsters colliding with enough force to shake the ground. Their fists flew, claws tore through armor, blood splattered across broken stone.
Eleanor dove into the fray with lethal precision, disabling two attackers who lunged at Adam's exposed back.
She moved like a ghost—silent, deadly, unstoppable.
A blade swung toward her throat.
She ducked, twisted, planted her dagger into the attacker's ribs.
Another came at her from the left.
She disarmed him with a sweeping kick, grabbed his dagger mid-fall, and slit his throat before the man even hit the ground.
The courtyard's flames reflected in her eyes, turning her into something fierce and untouchable.
Adam saw it between blows—saw the assassin she was trained to be—and something primal surged in him.
Not fear.
Possession.
But Gregor was too strong for his weakened state. The Ironwolf slammed Adam into a wall, cracking stone, driving a fist into his jaw hard enough to draw blood.
Adam staggered.
Gregor lifted him by the throat.
"Your father was right," he told Eleanor with a sneer. "The Alpha is weak."
"LET HIM GO!" Eleanor screamed, sprinting toward them.
Gregor turned—
—just as Adam broke free, slashing a claw across the man's chest.
Gregor roared and swung again, but Adam blocked the blow with sheer willpower, fury fueling him.
Eleanor grabbed Adam's arm.
"Enough!" she cried. "Adam—you'll lose yourself again—STOP!"
Her voice hit him like a command through the bond.
Adam froze.
Gregor didn't.
He lunged for Eleanor.
And Adam went feral.
The black shadow inside him surged—an explosion of darkness and rage. His eyes went pitch black, his muscles convulsing as Zakriel tore closer to the surface.
He grabbed Gregor and slammed him into the courtyard floor so hard the stone shattered.
Once.
Twice.
A third time—
"ADAM!" Eleanor screamed, rushing to him. "ADAM STOP! He's dead!"
But Adam couldn't hear her.
The beast was winning.
He swung toward her, breath ragged, chest heaving, eyes burning with black fire.
"E-Eleanor…" he choked. "Get… back…"
She didn't move.
Instead, she stepped right into his arms.
Pressed her body to his.
Gripped his face.
Forced him to see her.
"Come back to me," she whispered, voice breaking. "Adam. I need you. Please—come back."
The bond went white-hot.
A violent pulse tore through both of them—painful, blinding, electric.
Adam gasped.
Eleanor cried out.
The shadow recoiled inside him like a wounded beast.
His knees buckled.
And he collapsed into her.
Breathing hard. Shaking. Human again.
Eleanor's arms tightened around him… and something in Adam finally snapped.
His hand shot into her hair.
He pulled her close.
And kissed her.
Not gentle.
Not hesitant.
Desperate.
A crash of mouths, breath, hunger, and raw emotion—like he'd been dying and she was the first breath he'd taken in years.
Eleanor melted into him, gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer, tasting blood and smoke and the heat of him. The bond flared wildly, pulsing between their chests, their hearts beating in the same rhythm.
His lips parted hers deeper, fiercer, like he couldn't get close enough.
He whispered against her mouth, voice cracking:
"You're mine."
Her reply was breathless, trembling against his lips:
"Then fight for me."
The world burned around them—wolves clashing, soldiers screaming, fire roaring—but for one suspended moment, they were the center of everything.
And nothing else mattered.
Until—
A booming voice cut through the courtyard like thunder.
"ELEANOR."
Her blood froze.
Adam's grip tightened instantly, possessive and dangerous.
Because the man standing at the shattered gate…
cloaked in moonlight…
eyes glowing with ancient power…
…was Alphonsus Thorne.
Her father had come.