The air smelled of blood and smoke. The battlefield was chaos—wolves clashed in a blur of fur and teeth, bodies tumbling through the dirt as snarls and cries echoed into the night.
Nova’s heart pounded as she dodged an attack, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She had trained for years with Silver Ridge, but she had never fought like this—never fought for her life.
And she had never fought against the people she once called family.
Across the battlefield, she spotted Dorian locked in a brutal fight with one of Crescent Moon’s warriors. His movements were precise, controlled, every strike landing with deadly intent. He had always been a skilled fighter.
But he looked different now. Colder.
A Silver Ridge wolf lunged at her from the side, forcing her back into the fight. She ducked low
