The Alpha's Contracted Luna

The Battle

Damien's POV

Everything just...stopped when the voice called me "son." The wolves at the door, all that noise—they faded away like someone turned off the sound. I forgot about the note folded in my pocket. For a few seconds, I immediately remembered the voice. It belonged to the betrayer of Blackwood pack: My Uncle.

"You should've stayed buried, Lucien." I said in a growl.

He laughed, slow and pleased, like he’d finally seen a trick he’d waited years to teach me. Clapping his hands, he stepped into the light. He looked older than I remembered, but still exactly the same guy who stood beside my father for twenty years. All the way until I helped bury him. "You think I wanted her dead? This was never about her. The kidnapping, the note, the ring—it was all for you. I wanted to see who you’d turn into without me around. But you turned out like your father. Weak for the wrong girl."

Something scraped against the wall—a door I hadn’t noticed before flew open. Wolves poured out in hundreds, growling in threat . The room felt packed, the air too thick to breathe.

Marcus slipped next to me, quiet. "Alpha," he said.

I took off the ring and set it carefully on a crate. I didn’t rush. That little bit of care was probably the last gentle thing I’d do tonight.

"Not yet," I told him. "Hold back."

After that, the silence pressed down hard, the kind you get right before everything falls apart. My vision flashed gold. My bones shifted under my skin, slow, rough—felt like metal melting instead of blood moving. My heartbeat pounded all through the compound, reaching the wolves closest to me.

Some of them just dropped before I even finished shifting.

"Impossible," someone whispered.

"No Alpha carries this much pressure," another muttered, backing away.

But Lucien only grinned wider. "Kill him."

Thirty charged at once. I let the first one get close. When I moved, one blow sent him straight through a concrete pillar—brought it down on top of him.

After that, it wasn’t even a fight. It was payback. I didn’t waste a step. Every move landed right where I meant it to. Somewhere behind me, Marcus mumbled, almost to himself, "I’d forgotten why the packs are scared of him."

The chaos spilled out through the broken gate, spread into the compound. The whole place was on fire—trees burning, cars popping off one after another until the dark sky glowed orange. Ethan held the treeline. Rowan tore apart the other side. Marcus hung back, radio glued to his ear, calling out coordinates, never missing a beat, even as explosions shook the ground.

I stayed in the middle. Lucien kept sending more. Nothing that made it near me got a second shot.

Then I heard her. One quick scream, cut off near the courtyard wall. All my plans, everything I’d been holding onto, disappeared. I moved without thinking, cutting through fire, smoke, bodies, with just one focus left. There—a rogue wolf had her by the arm. She still had her knife up, fighting like that was the only thing left.

I hit him before he even saw me. Didn’t check if he got up.

Suddenly I was between her and all the others. My chest heaved, smoke burned in my lungs. She locked eyes with me through the haze—she didn’t freeze, but I saw it. She knew me.

I leaned down. Her hand, shaking, pressed into my fur. Something passed between us—pure, ours alone, even in all this mess.

The moment broke. Something moved behind her. I shifted back just enough.

"Behind me."

She listened. Didn't argue. Just did it.

Lucien watched his line buckle, not running but laughing instead."You've won tonight," he yelled, like he was actually proud of me. "Just like I wanted."

He tossed something small and black into the fire. The ground trembled. The first building folded in on itself, smoke rolling in and swallowing him up. By the time I got there, he was gone—just laughter echoing out as the structure collapsed in front of me.

No body. No proof. Just a man who learned how to vanish, again.

When the fires finally died, the compound was rubble, our colors flying over the smoldering wreck.

"We've secured the territory," Marcus croaked, voice rough.

I barely heard him. I watched Rowan’s people drag the last survivor out of the mess. The guy was bleeding, barely standing, and whatever victory I was supposed to feel wasn’t there. Just a cold, steady kind of anger.

"Bring him to me."

They dropped him at my feet. He only stayed up because Rowan’s guy gripped his collar. Blood ran down the guy’s side and he was still laughing, that wet, ragged kind like he’d gladly spend even his last breath to take one more swing.

Lila came to my side. Her hand found my arm. I let her.

"You think this was about your wife?" the man spat.

My fist closed around his collar without even thinking. "Then what."

"She was bait." He coughed, spat blood on the concrete. "Just noise. Just to keep you here, away from the north."

Ice shot through my chest. "Say it."

"The real target..." He almost passed out, but pulled his focus back, needed me to see it hit. "Was your father."

Even if the ground had opened up, I wouldn’t have noticed. My dad was three hours north, in that same house Lila and I visited weeks ago, complaining about the roof.

"Where." My voice was so raw, it made him flinch.

His bloody mouth twisted, almost smiling. "Already there."

His body went slack. The sound I made wasn’t human.

I was already moving—Marcus shouting for the car, for Ethan, for anyone with wheels, anyone who could fight—because three hours north, my dad had no clue what was coming for him, and I’d wasted too much time already.

Lila waited at the car ready to go and this time, I didn’t argue even if I wanted her to stay back.