War Between The Bloodlines : The Chosen Luna

PROLOGUE David (low, venomous): "You really think I’d let you walk out of here, Nikita? With her?" (His lips curl into a smirk, but the madness in his eyes betrays his composure.) Nikita (deadly calm): "Step aside, pup. I’m not in the mood to kill you today." (Her voice is ice, but her muscles are taut, her fingers twitching with the need to rip him apart.) David (scoffing, stepping closer): "Kill me? You won’t get the chance. Ziaani is mine. She belongs with her own kind." (His gaze flickers to Ziaani, his expression softening into something twistedly affectionate.) "Don’t you, love?" Ziaani (steady, defiant): "I would rather rot in this dungeon than ever be yours." (David flinches, his jaw tightening. The moment of rejection hits him like a physical blow. Then, in a blur of movement, he shifts—claws extending, fangs bared as a guttural snarl rips through the air.) David (growling): "If I can’t have you… neither can she." (He lunges—straight for Ziaani.) Nikita (snarling, intercepting): "Wrong move." (The impact is violent. Nikita meets him mid-air, her strength unmatched. They crash into the stone wall with a sickening c***k. Dust and debris rain down. Nikita’s hand closes around his throat, pinning him like an insect.) Nikita (whispering, lethal): "You made one fatal mistake, little wolf." (She leans in, her crimson eyes gleaming in the darkness.) Nikita (fierce, unwavering): "You touched what’s mine." (David gasps, his claws raking at her wrist, but Nikita doesn’t flinch. Her grip tightens. The air in the dungeon is thick with tension, Ziaani frozen between fear and something else—something deeper, darker, intoxicating.) Ziaani (soft, urgent): "Nikita… let’s go. He’s not worth it." (Nikita’s grip trembles for just a second before she throws David to the ground like discarded trash. He chokes, gasping for air, eyes wild with rage.) David (hoarse, spiteful): "She’ll never be yours, vampire. No matter what you do." (Nikita doesn’t respond. Instead, she turns, grabs Ziaani’s hand, and pulls her close—so close Ziaani can feel the cold of her skin, the anger thrumming beneath it.) Nikita (low, possessive): "She already is." (With that, they vanish into the shadows, leaving David seething in the darkness, his fury a fire that will soon ignite a war.)