The door sealed with a quiet hiss that sounded far too final.
Aria stood where Damien had left her, fingers still curled as if his sleeve were there, warmth fading from her skin. The room seemed to breathe around her. Firelight trembled across ancient symbols. Her name watched her from the wall, ink dark and unblinking.
Outside, the first howl split the night.
It was not a pack howl. It carried no unity, no ritual rhythm. It was jagged, feral, sharpened with intent.
Aria's heart slammed hard enough to hurt.
Another howl answered it. Then another.
She backed away from the door, breath shallow, every instinct screaming to run and nowhere to go. Damien's command echoed in her head, heavy and absolute.
Do not leave this room.
The alarm continued to wail through the mansion, a steady, pulsing cry that set her nerves on edge. Somewhere below, boots thundered across stone floors. Doors slammed. Orders barked through comms.
Then a sound cut through everything.
Metal tearing.
The impact shook the floor beneath her feet.
Aria stumbled, grabbing the edge of a table to steady herself as the door rattled in its frame. Something heavy slammed into it from the other side. Not fists. Not tools.
Bodies.
Her wolf stirred again, stronger this time. Not fear alone drove it. There was recognition. A deep, instinctive understanding that whatever was out there was not meant to cross thresholds politely.
"Stay back," she whispered to herself, though there was no one else in the room.
Another crash. The reinforced door held, but barely. Dust rained from the ceiling in a fine, choking mist.
Aria's gaze flicked to the wall again. To her name. To the bloodlines branching outward like veins.
Omega Queen.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling heat bloom beneath her skin, unfamiliar and alive.
Wake up, she whispered again.
This time, something answered.
Not words. Not sound.
Pressure.
It rolled through her veins like a low tide turning, slow and irresistible. Her knees weakened. She sank to the floor, gasping as sensation flooded her. Her senses sharpened abruptly, painfully. She could smell iron. Cold air. Wet fur. Rage.
And Damien.
She felt him like a presence in the dark, vast and unyielding.
Outside the private wing, Damien Blackwood moved like death given form.
The moment he stepped into the corridor, the air changed.
Guards straightened instinctively, fear and reverence twisting together as his aura bled free. His eyes burned with a muted glow now, no longer fully restrained.
"Report," he said.
"They breached the outer perimeter," one guard answered breathlessly. "Three wolves confirmed. Not pack-affiliated. They took out two guards before the alarms tripped."
Damien's jaw tightened. "Status?"
"One down. The other two are heading toward the west stairwell."
Damien turned without another word, coat flaring behind him as he strode forward. Walls seemed to recoil from his presence. The mansion knew its master was awake.
He reached the stairwell just as the first intruder burst through the doors.
The wolf was half-shifted, bones warped grotesquely, eyes wild with silver madness. It lunged without hesitation.
Damien caught it by the throat.
There was a crack like breaking stone.
He dropped the body without looking back.
The second attacker came faster, smarter. It circled, claws scraping against marble, lips peeled back from bloodied teeth.
"You were warned," Damien said quietly.
The wolf laughed. A broken, rasping sound. "The Queen dies tonight."
The word struck something deep. Not in Damien.
In the world.
The air thickened, pressure slamming down so hard the wolf staggered. Damien advanced, eyes blazing now, power uncoiling fully at last.
"You will not speak her title," he said. "You will not speak her name."
The wolf snarled and leapt.
Damien met it head-on.
The fight was brutal and fast, a blur of claws and shattered stone. Power cracked through the corridor, ancient and terrifying. When it ended, the wolf lay broken at Damien's feet, life already draining from its eyes.
Damien stood still for a moment, chest rising once. Then he turned sharply.
"Lock this wing down completely," he ordered. "No one enters. No one leaves."
"Yes, sir."
Damien was already moving again.
Aria cried out as another impact slammed into the door.
This one was stronger.
The reinforced frame bent inward, metal shrieking under the strain. A claw punched through the center panel, blackened and wet, fingers curling, scraping for purchase.
Aria scrambled backward, heart in her throat. Her back hit the wall beneath her name. Heat surged through her, wild and instinctive.
No.
Something inside her rose up, furious and protective.
The claw tore wider. The wolf on the other side snarled, breath hot and foul as it forced its way through. Silver-threaded symbols glowed faintly along its skin, carved and burning.
Pain flared in Aria's chest in response.
"Do not," she whispered, voice shaking. "Do not come any closer."
The wolf laughed.
"You smell like a crown," it rasped. "And blood."
The door buckled.
Before it could break, the world exploded.
The intruder was ripped backward with a force that cracked the wall behind it. The door slammed shut again as if obeying a command. Footsteps echoed, slow and deliberate.
Damien stepped into the room.
His eyes were fully lit now, silver-gold and merciless. Blood streaked his knuckles. His presence filled the space until the air itself seemed to bow.
The wolf tried to rise.
Damien crushed it into the floor with a gesture.
"You crossed my threshold," he said. "That was your last mistake."
The wolf spat blood. "She will be hunted. This is only the first—"
Damien ended it without another word.
Silence crashed down.
Aria slid down the wall, breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The power inside her raged, confused and bright, reacting violently to Damien's proximity now that the threat was gone.
He turned to her instantly.
"Are you hurt?"
She shook her head, though she wasn't sure that was true. Her skin felt too tight. Too alive. Her heartbeat echoed through the room like a drum.
"I felt them," she whispered. "Before they reached the door. I felt you too."
Damien stilled.
"That should not be possible," he said slowly.
Fear flickered through her. "Is something wrong?"
"No," he said, voice softer now. "Something is changing."
He crossed the room in three strides and knelt in front of her, bringing his eyes level with hers. Up close, the restraint in him was gone. This was not the distant billionaire or the controlled protector.
This was a king who had tasted war.
"Listen to me," he said. "What you felt tonight is only the beginning. You must not try to push it. Not yet."
Aria swallowed. "They called me Queen."
"They will," Damien replied. "And worse."
She hesitated, then asked the question burning in her chest. "How many more will come?"
Damien's gaze hardened. "Enough that we must move."
"Move where?"
"To a place that answers to me alone," he said. "A place older than the packs. Older than the councils."
Her heart pounded. "You knew this would happen."
"I hoped it wouldn't be so soon."
Outside the room, the mansion settled slowly back into uneasy quiet. Guards dragged bodies away. Blood was cleaned from marble floors that had seen worse centuries before.
Inside, Aria pressed her palm to her chest again.
Her wolf stirred, no longer whispering, no longer afraid.
It was awake enough to know one thing with absolute certainty.
The man kneeling before her was not just her shield.
He was her war.
And somewhere beyond the walls, something ancient had just realized she was no longer unguarded.