THE MOONLESS WEREWOLF

Chapter four

THE FIGHT

Lira moves first. She is fast and faster than I’d ever seen her. Even without the moon’s strength, she is a weapon.

She leaps, slides low under the first Voidborn’s reach, and both blades slice upward in one clean motion.

Slice.

The head tumbles off. Black blood sprays across the stone.

“One down,” she says, already turning toward the next.

I surge forward.

Everything moves slower for me now.

I grab the second Voidborn by the throat—It is rough and I felt its cold skin under my claws. I heave it up and smash it into the wall so hard the stone cracks.

Crash.

It slides down and motionless.

“Good,” Lira calls out. She doesn’t even look my way. “Three more." she said..

But the remaining three are different.

They hang back.... They are watching and learning.

Then they split—two lunging straight for Lira, one charging me. My attacker comes fast. It swipes so I block it with my arm. I roar and drive my fist into its face. It staggers back and it's stunned.

And then I hear a cry ....

I hear Lira’s cry.

I spin around. I saw Two Voidborn are on her at once.

She parries and dodges then she strikes—but she’s outnumbered... She looks so Tired.

One of them leaps high and claws outstretched, aiming straight for her unprotected back.

I don’t think but I just move.

“LIRA!” I shout—her name, loud and clear.

I throw myself between them. The creature’s claws rake across my shoulder instead of hers.

“Kayden!” Lira screams.

Rage consumes me. I felt hot and blinding.

The bones on my back lengthen and spreading wider.

I don’t feel the wound anymore. I only feel the need to protect her.I tear through the two monsters like they are made of paper. Until nothing remains but black smoke and silence. When it ends, the world goes quiet and only the sound of blood dripping on stone. and only my ragged breathing.

I turn slowly.

Lira stands there, she is staring at me. Her eyes are huge, fixed on my shoulder. The cut is deep. Blood pours down my arm.

“You i***t,” she whispers. Her voice shakes. “You were supposed to stay behind me. I’m the handler. I should protect you.”

“I did stay behind you,” I say, my voice rough. “I stepped in front. There’s a difference.” And then the darkness takes me.

I wake to the sharp, And I smell the medicine.

I saw a white ceiling. The room is dim and windows draped with heavy cloth. Still no moon.

My shoulder throbs—a dull, burning ache that pulses with every beat of my heart. Lira sits beside my bed, cleaning her knives with a soft cloth. Slow and precise movements.

She looks exhausted. There are dark circles under her eyes. And there is blood on her cheek but it is not hers.

“You’re awake,” she says. She keeps her eyes on the blade in her hands. “How do you feel?”

“My shoulder hurts,” I say. My throat is dry and tight."

“Good,” she says. “That means you’re still alive.”

Silence stretches between us, broken only by the soft shwick of cloth on metal. Then she sets the knives down. Finally, she looks at me. Her golden eyes are rimmed red, like she’s been crying. Or hasn’t slept in days.

“Why did you do it?” she asks, quiet and raw. “Why jump in front of me? I’m the Alpha Heir. I’m trained for this. I’m supposed to keep you safe—not the other way around.”

I try to shrug and wince. It hurts too much.

“I didn’t think. I just… couldn’t watch you get hurt.”

Lira’s lips part. Then close again. She looks away toward the covered window.

“You can’t ever do that again,” she says, but her voice is soft, not commanding. “If you die, Kayden—if the Guardian falls—then the world falls with you. You matter more than me. More than anyone.”

“That’s not true,” I say. “You matter to me.”

She goes still. For a long moment she doesn’t speak.

Then she stands up and walks to the cabinet, pulling out fresh bandages and a jar of healing salve. She returns and sits on the edge of my bed. The mattress dips slightly under her weight.

“Let me see,” she says gently.

I lift my shirt. The wound is long and jagged. It is already crusted over.

Lira’s fingers are cool when they brush my skin. She cleans it slowly, carefully, dabbing antiseptic that stings. I hiss through my teeth.

“Sorry,” she whispers. Her breath is warm against my skin.

She wraps the bandage tight but not painful, circling my shoulder and chest. Her fingers brush against my skin again and again—light, fleeting touches that send shivers through me despite the pain.

When she finishes tying the knot, she doesn’t pull away immediately. Her hand rests on my good shoulder, warm and steady. For one heartbeat, two, we just sit there.

Then she snatches her hand back like she burned herself.

“Don’t read too much into it,” she says quickly, not meeting my eyes. “It’s my job. Handler and Guardian. Nothing more.”

“Thank you anyway,” I say.

She stands and walks to the window, pulling the heavy cloth just enough to peek outside. Darkness stares back.

“We have twenty-eight days left,” she says quietly. “The moon is still fading. The Voidborn are getting stronger. And Kayden? I’m scared.”

My chest aches—deeper than the wound. A different kind of hurt.

“What are you scared of?”

She turns back to me, leaning against the wall. Her guard slips completely.

“I’m scared I won’t be good enough. That I’ll train you wrong. That I’ll make a mistake and get you killed. That everyone will die because I failed.”

I push myself up, ignoring the sharp pull in my shoulder.

“Lira, look at me. You haven’t failed. You killed two of them tonight. You stayed up all night teaching me. You’re here. That’s more than anyone else has ever done. You’re the strongest person I know.”

She laughs—a hollow, broken sound. “You don’t know me. You only know the girl who tripped you in the halls and called you names.”

“I know this girl too,” I say. “The one who stays up late training with me. The one who patched up my shoulder. The one who’s terrified but still shows up every single time. That’s the real you, isn’t it?”

Lira stares at me for a long time, searching my face. Then her gaze drops to her hands.

“I hate that you see me,” she whispers. “It makes things complicated.”

“Why?”

“Because now you’ll expect me to be this person always,” she says. “And I don’t know if I can be.”

“You already are,” I tell her.

She takes a breath, holds it, then lets it out slow. “I need to check the perimeter. Rest. We train at midnight.”

She reaches the door, then stops. Doesn’t turn around.

“Kayden… thank you. For saving me.”

And then she’s gone.