The battlefield was drenched in eerie silence, a void carved out by the Blood Moon’s suffocating presence. Every wolf, Stormborn, Blackthorne, rogue, stood frozen, watching the confrontation unfold. The red sky pulsed above them, its hunger reflected in the violent energy crackling between Layla and Gideon. The very air seemed to hum with anticipation, as if the universe itself was holding its breath.
Then, through the stillness, a voice rang out.
“Stand with her!”
Ronan.
Bloodied, bruised, yet unyielding, he stood among the allies, his voice cutting through the storm of chaos. His call was not a command, it was a rallying cry. A plea. A truth undeniable.
One by one, the warriors answered. Stormborn wolves braced their stances, Blackthorne defectors bared their fangs in defiance, rogu
