The Lycan’s Witch Luna

Seven

Kaiden

My eyes watched the men as they walked towards me. What were the Ironfang doing here? I didn’t know. And whatever the reason was, I knew that it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

Alex appeared at my side, his face grim as he emerged from the opposite end of the village, his boots dusted with ash.

“You see what I see?” he muttered, his usual smirk gone.

“Yeah,” I growled, my brows furrowing as the vehicles stopped.

The doors opened, and men stepped out, their movements sharp, coordinated. I recognized the one in the lead—broad-shouldered, with a scar running down his jaw.

Roland, the Ironfang’s beta. His eyes scanned the ruins, cold and calculating, before locking onto mine. The others fanned out, their postures alert, hands twitching near weapons I knew they carried.

My fists clenched.

The Ironfang had been howling about my “demon wolf” crossing their borders, and now they were here, in Winthoven’s ashes, where a pack, or so I thought, had torn through a coven I’d sworn to destroy myself.

“What the hell are they doing here?” Alex whispered, his voice tight.

I didn’t answer. My gaze stayed on Roland, his presence igniting a spark of fury in my chest. If they thought they could pin this on me, then they were about to learn how wrong they were.

“Alpha Kaiden,” Roland called. “What a pleasant surprise.”

I furrowed my brows at him, watching him tentatively.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

Roland laughed and shoved his hands into his pockets. His brown hair was short and his hazel eyes matched his hair, their coldness complementing the scar that lit up his right jaw.

“Oh. I’m probably here for the same reason you are,” he said. “To kill the witches of Winthoven.”

“Jericho sent you to do his dirt work for him?” I teased.

Roland’s smile faded and his brows furrowed in contempt. I had triggered him. It worked every time. Jericho wasn’t someone you wouldn’t see very often. And that made it hard to kill him.

“You better watch your mouth,” he said with a low growl.

“If you don’t watch yours, I’m going to rip it off and feed it to one of your boys here,” I threatened gently.

He flinched and the infuriated look on his face died off immediately.

“If you are looking for the witches, someone already beat us to it,” I said, turning to the ruins around us.

Roland’s eyes scanned the ruins, his face filled with both horror and fury. But I knew that he wasn’t after the witches. They must have known that they had been destroyed already. And this was because they had been following me.

“But I’m guessing you already knew this,” I said, stepping forward.

The men behind him took a step backward in fear. A smile escaped my lips. No matter how tough they acted, they knew deep down that they weren’t a match for me.

They were mere werewolves. Alex and I were Lycans—an evolved version of them. Alex alone would rip them to shreds if he wanted to.

Roland laughed and pulled his hands from his jeans. He was nervous, I could tell. I could hear his heart thumping in anxiety. They didn’t come here to look for the witches, they came here to neutralize me.

Their fear of the uncertainty of my cursed form drove them here. And they were going to die because of it.

“I am going to overlook what you are about to do, if you take your men and leave,” I said.

Alex was behind me, and the look on his face was confusing. He didn’t sense the bloodlust oozing off Roland. He was coming after me. That was certain. He wanted to take me down personally, but there was no way I was going down at all.

Behind the cars, the sun was setting and twilight drew nearer. They were waiting for it to get dark.

“What are you talking about, Kaiden?” Roland asked with another nervous laugh. “We came here to see the ruins for ourselves.”

I hated being lied to. And now, they were going to pay for that.

“Very well,” I said gently before taking off my shoes.

Roland took a step backward in fear while Alex shifted uncomfortably beside me. He knew he wasn’t going to interfere. I was going to handle all of them myself. This was personal.

“Now!” Roland yelled.

Before I could tell what was happening, a silver chain was thrown around my body binding me. I groaned in pain and the silver burned my skin.

I tried to wriggle free from the chains but they were stronger than I thought. It seemed they had planned this before coming. I wouldn’t expect any less.

“Kaiden,” Alex called with a worrisome tone.

“Stay back, Alex. I got this.”

He sighed and moved backwards.

“Get that bastard!” Roland ordered. “You heard what Jericho said. Don’t forget!”

The silver chains seared my skin, their bite sharp and relentless, but I had felt worse under the full moon’s curse. Roland’s men shifted, their bodies cracking and twisting into snarling wolves, fur bristling under the fading twilight.

Their eyes glowed amber, teeth bared as they lunged, a pack of six charging me with reckless fury. My heart pounded, not from fear but from the thrill of what was coming. They thought they could take me. They were wrong.

I flexed my arms, muscles coiling, and the silver chains groaned under the strain. With a simple stretch, I snapped them apart, the silver links shattering like brittle glass, the burns on my skin fading quickly.

The first wolf leaped towards me, his jaws aiming for my throat. I sidestepped, grabbing its scruff mid-air and slamming it into the ash-strewn ground.

The impact shook the ruins, dust rising as the beast whimpered, bones crunching.

Another came from the left, claws slashing. I ducked, my fist connecting with its jaw, sending it spinning into a charred wall with a sickening crack. The remaining four circled, growling, their paws kicking up soot. I didn’t wait.

I lunged, my claws extending—not fully shifted, but enough to be lethal. My hand tore through the flank of one wolf, blood spraying as it yelped and collapsed.

Another snapped at my leg but I kicked, my boot crushing its skull, the sound like a snapped branch. The third tried to flunk me, but I spun, grabbing its throat and hurling it into the fourth.

They crashed together, a tangle of fur and broken limbs, their howls cut short as I stomped down, silencing them. The air was filled with blood and ash, my breath steady, pulse calm. They were no match for a Lycan, cursed or not. I hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Roland was already scrambling toward his SUV, his boots slipping on the gravel, panic etched across his scarred face. He thought he could run. Cute.

He reached the driver’s door, fumbling with the handle, his heart pounding so loudly I could hear it from yards away. I closed the distance in seconds, my hand shooting through the open window, fingers locking around the collar of his shirt.

He screamed, a pathetic sound, as I yanked him out, glass shattering as his body scraped through. I slammed him against the SUV’s hood, the metal denting under his weight. His hazel eyes widened, terror replacing the smugness he’d worn minutes ago.

“You should’ve told the truth,” I growled, my voice low, vibrating with rage. “I might’ve spared you.”

His mouth opened, a plea forming, but I didn’t care. My grip tightened, and with a swift twist, I snapped his neck.

The crack echoed through the silent ruins, sharp and final. I didn’t stop there. With a grunt, I tore his head free, blood splattering the ash-covered ground. The Ironfang needed a message, and I’d deliver it.

I grabbed Roland’s shirt from his limp body, wrapping his head in it, the fabric soaking red. The other Ironfang men lay scattered, their wolf forms broken, lifeless. The air was thick with the stench of death, mingling with the village’s ashes.

I turned, walking back to Alex, who stood by our SUV, his face blank, eyes wide but unreadable. He’d seen me like this numerous times, but the weight of it—the blood, the bodies, the curse—hung between us.

I tossed Roland’s wrapped head onto the ground, the thud muffled by ash.

“I’m driving,” I said, brushing past him, my voice steady, the adrenaline still thrumming in my veins.