One Rejected Luna, Three Ruthless Alphas.

The Road to the Full Moon.

They left Nightfall at first light with sixty of their best fighters.

Kael rode at the front, face unreadable, frost-pale eyes fixed on the northern treeline. Ronan stayed close to Selene’s left side, a living wall of muscle and barely restrained violence. Darius rode on her right, golden eyes scanning every shadow, one hand resting on the hilt of his blade. The rest of the column moved in disciplined silence behind them.

Five nights until the full moon.

Four nights of hard travel if the weather held.

One night to destroy everything Thorne had prepared.

The first day passed without incident. The second day the scouts began finding signs—broken branches, old fire pits, the faint mixed scent of Moonridge, Ironfang, and the sharper, bitter edge of Redclaw wolves. The enemy was ahead of them and moving with purpose.

Even on the march the three Alphas never stopped claiming small pieces of Selene’s attention.

When they stopped to water the horses, Ronan lifted her down from the saddle and kept his hands on her waist longer than necessary. When they ate in the saddle, Darius rode close enough that their knees brushed and his voice dropped to describe exactly what he planned to do to her once they had a locked door again. At night, when the column made cold camp, Kael always took first watch outside their shared tent—but not before pulling Selene into a deep, controlled kiss that left her lips burning while the other two watched.

The competition had become as natural as breathing.

On the third night they camped within half a day’s ride of the old temple complex. The air felt heavier here. Older. The kind of silence that belonged to places where blood had been spilled for forgotten reasons.

Inside the large tent the three Alphas shared with Selene, the tension finally snapped.

Ronan barely waited for the flap to close before he pulled her against him and kissed her hard. Kael moved behind her, already working the fastenings of her riding leathers. Darius dropped to his knees, dragged her pants down, and put his mouth between her thighs with a low, hungry sound.

They had been careful on the road.

Tonight they were not.

Ronan sat on the low sleeping pallet and pulled her down onto his c**k in one smooth thrust. The sudden fullness dragged a broken moan from her throat. Kael stayed at her back, one hand around her throat, the other reaching down to stroke her c**t in tight, perfect circles. Darius stood to the side and guided her mouth to him, letting her taste him while she rode.

They moved together in a rhythm that had become familiar and still desperate. Every time Ronan thrust up and made her gasp, Kael stroked faster. Every time Kael whispered something cold and filthy against her ear, Darius pushed deeper into her mouth. They competed for her strongest reactions even here, so close to the enemy, as if the coming battle only made the need to mark her sharper.

Selene came first, shaking, muffled cries vibrating around Darius. Ronan followed with a deep growl, holding her down through every pulse. They switched without words. Kael lifted her, turned her to face him, and thrust up into her while Darius and Ronan flanked them—mouths on her breasts, hands stroking, voices low and possessive. When Kael made her come again, he finished deep inside her moments later.

Darius took her last, bending her forward over the pallet and driving into her with long, powerful strokes while the other two held her open and kissed every sound from her lips. She shattered a third time before he finally let go.

They collapsed together afterward, Selene in the center, the scent of the three Alphas heavy on her skin once more.

Kael’s fingers traced the nearly faded rejection mark on her shoulder.

“Tomorrow we reach the temple.”

Ronan’s arm tightened around her waist. “We hit them before sunset. No waiting for the full moon.”

Darius pressed a slow kiss to the back of her neck. “And we end this.”

Outside the tent, the night wind moved through the trees. Somewhere ahead, Thorne, Vex, and the Redclaw wolves were still preparing their ritual—unaware that Nightfall was already close enough to smell the smoke of their fires.

Selene closed her eyes between her three Alphas, body warm and thoroughly claimed. The road to the full moon was almost over.

The real blood was about to begin.

They broke camp two hours before dawn.

No fires. No unnecessary sound. The sixty Nightfall warriors moved through the final stretch of forest like shadows. By the time the first gray light touched the treetops, the abandoned temple complex lay below them in a shallow valley—crumbling stone pillars, half-collapsed halls, and the faint glow of multiple campfires still burning inside the perimeter.

Kael raised one hand. The column stopped.

“Ronan, take the left ridge. Darius, the right. I will hit the main approach with Selene and the center group. We go in hard and fast. No survivors if they stand between us and the ritual site.”

Ronan’s eyes flicked to Selene. “She stays between us.”

“She stays between us,” Kael agreed.

Darius’s golden gaze lingered on her a moment longer, heat and violence mixed. “When this is over, I’m locking you in a room for a week.”

Selene met each of their eyes in turn and nodded once. Her wolf was already close to the surface, stronger than it had ever been since the rejection.

They moved.

The first Ironfang sentries died quietly under Nightfall blades. By the time the alarm howls rose, the main force was already inside the outer ruins. Chaos erupted in the narrow stone corridors and open courtyards. Moonridge, Ironfang, and Redclaw wolves poured out of the larger halls, half-dressed, half-shifted, caught between sleep and battle.

Selene stayed in the tight formation her Alphas preferred—Kael on her right, Ronan on her left, Darius covering her back. She shifted when they did, silver-white fur flashing among the darker shapes of her mates. Every time an enemy lunged for her, one of the three was already there. Every time she took a wolf down herself, she felt their attention snap to her for a split second of fierce, shared pride before the killing continued.

The fighting pushed deeper into the complex.

At the center stood the oldest structure—a wide, circular chamber open to the sky. Ancient runes covered the cracked stone floor. In the middle of the circle, a stone altar had been cleaned and prepared. Bowls of dark liquid, bundles of dried herbs, and three iron chains fixed to the altar’s base made the purpose unmistakable.

The ritual site.

Thorne was waiting in front of it.

He stood in human form, chest bare, the younger Luna Lila nowhere in sight. Alpha Vex of Ironfang flanked him on one side, a massive Redclaw Alpha on the other. Behind them, at least forty remaining fighters held position.

Thorne’s eyes locked on Selene and refused to move.

“You came. Good. It will be easier this way.”

Kael’s voice was pure winter. “The ritual ends tonight.”

Thorne smiled, thin and ugly. “The ritual ends when her bonds are burned out and she is empty enough to take my mark again. You three are only temporary.”

Ronan’s growl shook the air. “Come and test that.”

The final clash exploded across the circular chamber.

Nightfall warriors slammed into the enemy line. Kael, Ronan, and Darius stayed welded around Selene, a rotating wall of claws and teeth and lethal precision. Blood sprayed across the old runes. Bodies fell. The air filled with the copper scent of death and the raw sound of wolves tearing into one another.

Thorne fought his way toward Selene with single-minded fury. Ronan met him halfway in a violent collision that sent both males crashing into a broken pillar. Vex tried to flank from the left; Kael intercepted him with cold, efficient brutality. The Redclaw Alpha went for Selene directly—only to meet Darius’s full, golden-eyed rage.

Selene killed two more wolves that slipped through and then held her ground, chest heaving, silver fur streaked with blood that was not hers. Every time she looked up, one of her Alphas was checking her, eyes flashing with the same message: *Stay alive. Stay ours.*

The enemy line began to break.

Vex took a deep wound across the chest from Kael and staggered back, roaring for retreat. The Redclaw Alpha fell under Darius’s final blow and did not rise. Thorne, bloodied and raging, was driven away from the altar by Ronan’s relentless assault. One by one the remaining enemy fighters turned and fled into the ruins and the forest beyond.

Thorne was the last to leave.

He locked eyes with Selene across the blood-slicked floor, chest heaving, hatred and desperate longing twisting his face.

“This isn’t over. The full moon still comes. And I still know how to empty you.”

Then he shifted and vanished into the trees with the last of his wolves.

Silence fell hard over the circular chamber.

Nightfall had taken the temple. The ritual site was theirs. The bowls were overturned, the herbs scattered, the chains ripped from the altar stones. But Thorne was still alive, and the full moon was still only two nights away.

Kael, Ronan, and Darius shifted back almost at the same time. Their hands found Selene immediately—checking her for injuries, wiping blood from her face, pulling her against their bodies in open, possessive relief.

Ronan’s voice was rough. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s not mine,” she answered, the same words as before.

Darius cupped her jaw and kissed her once, hard, uncaring of the audience of surviving Nightfall warriors. “We burn the rest of this place. Then we go home.”

Kael’s frost-pale eyes stayed on the dark treeline where Thorne had disappeared. “He will try one more time before the moon. We need to be ready.”

Around them, the old temple reeked of blood and broken ritual.

Between them, Selene stood in the center of her three Alphas, thoroughly alive, thoroughly claimed, and still the only prize either side was truly fighting for.

The road to the full moon was almost finished.

The last and bloodiest night was still coming.