Chapter 8
682 Words
Assassins in the Dark
The attack came after midnight.
Fast.
Silent.
Deadly.
Isabella woke instantly.
Her wolf erupted into alarm.
Danger.
Danger.
Danger.
A window shattered.
A black-clad figure lunged toward her bed.
Instinct took over.
She rolled sideways.
A blade buried itself in the mattress.
The assassin cursed.
Isabella grabbed a nearby chair.
And smashed it across his face.
Wood exploded.
The attacker staggered.
A second assassin burst through the doorway.
Then a third.
Wonderful.
Three against one.
Exactly what every woman wants in the middle of the night.
The first attacker recovered.
All three advanced.
Professional.
Disciplined.
Murderous.
They weren't here to capture her.
They were here to kill her.
The nearest assassin lunged.
Isabella dodged.
Barely.
The blade sliced her arm.
Pain exploded.
Blood dripped onto the floor.
The attackers smiled.
Big mistake.
Something inside Isabella snapped.
Silver light erupted from her wound.
The room exploded with energy.
All three assassins froze.
Shock filled their eyes.
Moon energy.
Raw.
Ancient.
Powerful.
The silver light surged outward.
The nearest assassin slammed into the wall.
The second crashed through a table.
The third flew through the doorway.
Silence followed.
Heavy silence.
Isabella stared at her glowing hands.
Breathing hard.
What had she done?
The answer arrived instantly.
The entire building shook.
A terrifying pressure descended.
Every assassin went pale.
One whispered a name.
A name filled with fear.
"The King..."
The door exploded.
Lucian entered.
And the room became colder.
Much colder.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
The Lycan King looked furious.
Truly furious.
The sight was horrifying.
Golden eyes glowed.
Predatory energy filled the room.
Every assassin immediately dropped their weapons.
Too late.
Far too late.
Lucian's gaze settled on Isabella's bleeding arm.
The room grew silent.
Dangerously silent.
Then he looked at the attackers.
And smiled.
The smile terrified Isabella.
Because it contained no warmth whatsoever.
Only death.
One assassin attempted to run.
He never reached the doorway.
A blur.
A scream.
Blood.
Then silence.
The remaining assassins collapsed to their knees.
Begging.
Pleading.
Crying.
Lucian ignored them.
Instead he walked directly to Isabella.
His eyes remained fixed on her injury.
"Are you hurt?"
The question surprised her.
So did the concern.
"I'm okay."
The lie was obvious.
Blood continued dripping.
Lucian gently lifted her arm.
The touch sent an unexpected spark through her.
His expression darkened.
"They touched you."
The statement sounded strangely possessive.
Dangerously possessive.
The assassins heard it too.
Fear flooded their faces.
One began praying.
Actually praying.
That couldn't be a good sign.
Lucian finally turned.
And looked at them.
The room fell silent.
One assassin burst into tears.
"I swear we were ordered—"
He never finished.
Lucian raised one hand.
Dark energy surged.
The room shook.
And the assassins disappeared.
Gone.
Completely gone.
As though they never existed.
Silence followed.
Long silence.
Isabella stared.
"What did you do?"
Lucian remained calm.
"They won't bother you again."
That was not an answer.
At all.
Yet somehow she knew pushing further was a bad idea.
A very bad idea.
Instead she focused on something else.
"You were worried."
Golden eyes met hers.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then Lucian answered quietly.
"Yes."
Just one word.
Yet it changed everything.
Because for the first time since meeting him...
She believed him.
And somewhere deep inside, her heart responded.
A dangerous beginning.
One neither of them was prepared for.
Far away, inside a hidden fortress, a hooded figure listened to reports of the failed assassination.
The news did not please him.
At all.
"The heir lives?"
"Yes."
The messenger trembled.
"And the Lycan King protects her."
Silence.
Then laughter.
Cold laughter.
Terrifying laughter.
The hooded man slowly stood.
Moonlight revealed crimson eyes.
Ancient eyes.
Monstrous eyes.
"The game has finally begun."
A cruel smile spread across his face.
"Prepare the hunters."
The messenger swallowed.
"My lord..."
The crimson-eyed monster looked toward the distant mountains.
Toward Isabella.
Toward destiny.
Toward war.
"Bring me the queen."
And far away, without understanding why, Isabella suddenly felt a chill crawl down her spine.
As though something evil had just spoken her name.
- Writer
