Elena’s POV
The first rogue lunged, holding a blur of tactical black and glinting steel. He was fast, faster than most of them, but Deacon was
faster.
With a single and short sharp snarl I let out, Deacon understood and took a sidestep in quick dodge before he attacked back.
Grabbing his outstretched arm, he twisted it until his bone snapped with a crack and kicked his shin, leaving him with another
broken bone.
He landed on his knees, screaming in immense pain.
Before we finish watching his misery, another two come our way.
“Stay behind me!” Deacon roared, his voice dropping into the guttural register of his wolf.
“I can’t fight in this!” I shouted back, frustration spiking through me as I looked at my clothes. Though I already cut it, it wasn’t
enough.
Without hesitation, I reached down, grabbed the delicate fabric at my mid–thigh, and ripped it more. The sound of tearing silk was lost in the cacophony of screams and growls, but the freedom was instant. And followed, I kicked off my heels.
There! Now, I could move.
“Elena, look out!”
A rogue wolf, its fur matted and mangy, leaped over an overturned banquet table, jaws snapping for my throat. I didn’t have time to think. I dropped to my knees, sliding across the polished floor. As the wolf jumped over me, I thrust the silver steak knife upward. It buried deep into the soft underbelly of the beast.
The wolf yelped, crashing into a pillar behind me. I scrambled back to my feet, my hands shaking, slick with hot blood that wasn’t mine.
“That’s my girl,” Deacon grunted, blocking a blade with his forearm, his skin hardening, shifting just enough to deflect the
blow.
The ballroom was a scene from a nightmare. The red emergency lights painted everything shades of violence. The air was thick with the copper tang of blood, the ozone smell of stun batons, and the acrid smoke pouring in from the shattered windows.
Through the broken glass, I could see the gardens. They weren’t the sanctuary of peace they had been this morning. They were burning. Glenda’s forces had set fire to the hedgerows to herd the guests back inside, trapping us in the killing jar.
“Kaelen!” Deacon shouted into his comms, decapitating a rogue with a single swipe of his claws. “Status!”
“We are pinned down!” Kaelen’s voice crackled, breathless and strained. “East wing corridor. They blew the safe room doors! I can’t get the boy inside!”
My heart stopped. The world narrowed to a pinprick of terror.
They blew the doors.
“Where are you?” I screamed, grabbing Deacon’s arm. “Where is Rafael?”
“Near the ice sculptures!” Kaelen yelled back. “I’m taking heavy firel”
I looked across the vast, chaotic room. The buffet area was a wreck. The massive ice sculpture of two wolves mating was shattered. And there, backed against the wall, was Kaelen. He was in his human form, wielding a silver sword, fighting off three rogues at once.
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And behind him, tucked into the small alcove of a service entrance, was Rafael.
He wasn’t crying. He was holding a small fruit knife, his eyes wide, shaking, but standing his ground just like Deacon had taught him.
“I’m going to him,” I said.
“Elena, no!” Deacon grabbed my wrist, his grip bruising. “It’s too far. Stay here where I can protect you!”
“He is my nephew!” I screamed, pulling against his hold. “I am not hiding while he fights! You handle the army, Deacon. I’ll get Rafael!”
Deacon looked at me. He saw the fire in my eyes, the same fire that had made him fall in love with me.
And so, he let go.
“Go,” he commanded. “I will clear a path.”
Deacon turned to the center of the room. He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, inhaling deeply. When he opened them, they were no longer golden. They were a blinding, incandescent white.
He threw his head back and unleashed a roar–not a scream, but a wave of pure, concentrated Lycan power. It was a physical force, a shockwave of dominance that rippled through the room.
“SUBMIT!”
The command hit the rogues like a sledgehammer. Every wolf in the room faltered, whining and dropping to their bellies, their instincts forcing them to bow to the Alpha King. Even the mercenaries stumbled, clutching their heads as the sheer pressure of his aura crushed their will.
“Run, Elena!”
I took off. I sprinted through the momentary gap in the chaos, leaping over fallen bodies and debris.
“Get up, you idiots!” Glenda screeched from the balcony, immune to the command due to the distance and her own madness.” Kill her! Shoot her!”
Another rogue shook off the Lycan command, raising a crossbow. I saw him track me. I didn’t stop. I slid under a table just as the bolt thudded into the wood where my head had been a second ago. I scrambled out the other side, abandoning dignity for survival.
I reached the alcove just as a rogue shook off Deacon’s influence and lunged for Kaelen’s exposed back.
“Kaelen, duck!” I shrieked.
The Head of the Guard didn’t question me. He dropped. I didn’t have a sword, but I had momentum. I crashed into the rogue, driving my elbow into its snout. The beast yelped, stunned. Kaelen surged upward, finishing it with a clean thrust of his blade,
“Princess!” Kaelen gasped, blood streaming from a gash on his forehead. “You shouldn’t be here!”
“I’m taking, Rafael,” I panted, grabbing the boy from the alcove.
“Auntie!” Rafael cried, burying his face in my ruined dress.
“I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.” I scanned the room. The Lycan command was wearing off. The sheer number of attackers was overwhelming Deacon’s ability to hold them all down. He was fighting a dozen men in the center of the room, a whirlwind of violence, drawing all the attention to himself to buy us time.
“We can’t go back to the safe room,” Kaelen reported, wiping his sword. “The corridor has collapsed. The gardens are burning. The main doors are blocked by Glenda’s elite squad.”
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“Then we go up,” I said, looking at the service elevator behind the buffet. “To the family wing. We can barricade ourselves in the armory.”
“The power is out,” Kaelen reminded me. “The elevators are dead.”
“Then we take the stairs,” I said, gripping Rafael’s hand so tight my knuckles turned white. “Kaelen, you take points. I’ll cover the rear.”
“Princess-”
“That is an order, Kaelen!”
He nodded once, eyes filled with respect. “Yes, Princess.”
We began to move, hugging the walls. Across the room, Glenda spotted us. Her eyes locked onto Rafael, and a twisted, predatory grin stretched across her face. She didn’t want the crown. She didn’t even want Deacon anymore. She wanted to hurt me in the only way that would never heal.
“Forget the Prince!” Glenda screamed, pointing a jagged finger at us. “Get the boy! Bring me the boy!”
The horde turned. Dozens of glowing eyes shifted from Deacon to us.
“Run!” I yelled, scooping Rafael into my arms despite the weight.
We hit the stairwell door just as the first wave of rogues crashed against the buffet tables behind us. Kaelen slammed the heavy metal door shut and threw the deadbolt, but the metal groaned under the impact of bodies throwing themselves against it.
“It won’t hold for long,” Kaelen grimaced.
“It doesn’t have to,” I said, looking up the dark, winding staircase. “It just has to hold long enough for us to get a weapon.”
I looked down at Rafael. He was terrified, trembling in my arms.
“Remember what Deacon taught you?” I whispered, smoothing his hair.
“Stand your ground?” he whispered back.
“No,” I said as I set him down so we could climb faster. “Run. Run fast, and don’t look back.”
With that, we began to climb into the darkness, the sound of the door hinges screaming below us, marking the beginning of
another chase.
P
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
