Chapter 9: Terror Under the Moonlight

Elena's POV

In the pale wash of moonlight, I saw it — a massive wolf, ash-grey from snout to tail, eyes burning yellow, its body three times the size of any normal wolf. It bared its fangs and came charging straight at me.

I spun and ran.

I didn't make it far. Something caught my foot and I hit the ground hard, face-first.

Hiss.

God, it hurt.

My chin, my arms, my legs — all scraped raw against the rocks.

I didn't have time to feel it. I scrambled back to my feet, stumbling, desperate to get away.

ROAR!

The sound tore through the air right behind me — so close it felt like hot breath at my ear. Every hair on my body stood on end.

"Ah—!"

Something massive swept across the back of my legs. My body pitched forward and I went down again, harder this time.

The fall knocked the air out of me. My head clipped the trunk of a nearby tree and I felt the warm trickle of blood down my forehead before it reached the corner of my mouth.

The iron taste spread across my tongue.

I wanted to live. I pressed my palms against the filthy ground and tried to push myself up.

The grey wolf was already in front of me.

Its two front claws gleamed in the moonlight like a pair of giant blades. It raised them and brought them down toward my face.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn't make myself look at what was about to happen.

Then I heard it — a low, guttural sound. Not human. But not like any animal I'd ever heard either.

The blow never came.

No tearing pain. Nothing.

Cautiously, I cracked my eyes open.

The grey wolf was frozen mid-strike, one claw still raised, its tip less than an inch from my eye.

Before I could close my eyes again, the wolf's body simply came apart — head, torso, limbs — scattered in every direction like something had split it open in a single instant.

Its blood hit me full in the face. I was too stunned to move, kneeling there, drenched, unable to even flinch.

Through the dark smear across my vision I could just barely make out the shape of something else. Whatever had done this was far larger than the wolf — easily ten feet tall, a massive, hulking silhouette standing motionless in the dark.

I couldn't see it clearly. But I could feel it. The violence rolling off it. The raw, animal danger of it.

The numbness that had carried me this far finally broke.

I started shaking.

I pressed my face to the ground, closed my eyes, and went still. If I couldn't run, maybe I could disappear. Maybe it would leave me alone.

But the blood-soaked air poured into my mouth and nose — thick, metallic, rank — and my stomach lurched hard. I choked back the urge to vomit.

The creature moved toward me.

Each step landed like a drumbeat, and my heart slammed back against my ribs to match it, each beat harder than the last. I clawed at the fabric over my chest, gasping for air.

Faster. My heartbeat was getting faster.

Dark spots crowded the edges of my vision — hundreds of tiny black sparks swarming in from all sides.

My chest burned.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't hold on.

The ground rushed up to meet me, cold and soaked in blood, and everything went black.


I don't know how long I was out.

When I came back to myself, I was completely wet — and I jolted awake with a cry before I even understood where I was.

"It's alright. It's me. It's your Lucas." A warm voice, steady and close. "I've got you, Elena. You're safe."

Two arms wrapped around me, pulling me against a broad, burning-warm chest. I knew that warmth. I knew the faint cedar-and-musk of his cologne, and the strong, even rhythm of his heartbeat underneath my ear.

"Lucas?"

I was terrified it wasn't real. Terrified I was still on the ground somewhere, dreaming.

I forced myself to look up.

There he was — handsome face, dark stubble shadowing his jaw, faint shadows beneath his eyes. Even exhausted, even rough around the edges, he was unfairly beautiful. My heart stuttered in a completely different way.

But I could see it clearly: he hadn't slept. He'd been here with me, watching over me, for a long time.

"It's me, honey." His voice was soft. "Don't be scared. I'll always protect you."

The memory of what I'd seen hit me all at once and I curled into him, shaking again, this time not from cold.

"Lucas, I was so scared. Those things — they were terrifying. I was so scared."

I felt his chest tighten beneath my cheek — a subtle shift in his muscles, the kind that happened when he was holding something back.

I lifted my head and caught the briefest flicker of something on his face. Worry.

"Lucas?"

"Elena." His voice was even, careful. "How did you end up at the estate?"

I didn't want to answer. But after everything that had happened, I'd already decided — we were husband and wife, and I was done hiding things from him.

Honesty was the only way through.

"I got a message," I said quietly. "From that woman. She told me you were here."

I looked down at my hands. "I called you. You didn't pick up. I was worried about you, so I came."

I couldn't meet his eyes. I knew how much he hated being doubted — and I'd been the one who doubted him first.

"Elena." He exhaled and pulled me closer. "That's on me. I should have told you I had urgent business at the old estate. I should have said something before I left."

"It's over now. Those wolves — they've been dealt with. I've had them driven off. None of them will come near you again." He pressed his lips to my hair. "No one gets to hurt you. Not ever. Mon amour."

His mention of the old estate — I'd heard of it before, though I'd never been. The family compound, where the whole clan lived. Was that where I was right now?

I glanced around the room. It wasn't our villa.

"Elena," Lucas said, "when the time is right, I'll take you to meet my people. My friends. My family."

I'd been wrong about where we were — but it didn't sting the way I thought it would.

Even if there was no old estate here, even if the woman behind the rose profile picture — Sweet An — hadn't been here either, Lucas had promised. He would take me to meet them. That meant something. He loved me.

"Lucas—"

I'd barely started when a familiar voice cut in from across the room.

"Elena, let me change your dressings."

I turned.

Daisy stood just inside the door, a medical kit in her hands. She wasn't looking directly at me — but the arrogance she usually carried like a second skin was gone. In its place was something quieter. More clinical. She looked less like a rival and more like a doctor doing her job.

"Of course. Thank you, Daisy."

"It's what I'm here for."

Her words were clipped, but not cruel. And honestly — we were square. She'd pushed, and I'd pushed back. Whatever we'd been to each other before, I wasn't going to hold it over her.

Lucas stepped aside and let her work. As she examined me, he explained, with more patience than I expected, "Daisy is a close friend of mine. She's also one of the most gifted young physicians in our family. She's the right person to be treating you."

The jealousy I would have felt a week ago wasn't there. "I know," I said. "I'm fine with Daisy. We know each other."

Daisy's hands went still for just a moment. When I looked at her, she glanced away without a word.

I could still feel it — she didn't like me. But it was muted now. Edges worn down a little, somehow.

Jude, Lucas's assistant, appeared at the door needing him. Lucas told me he'd be back shortly and stepped out.

The room was quiet. Just me and Daisy.

She spoke first — which surprised me. And her voice, for once, didn't carry that sharp edge of challenge.

"Elena. Lucas was out of his mind with worry over you. You can't keep getting hurt."

I half-smiled. "Daisy — don't tell me you were worried about me too."

A faint flush crept up her cheeks. She finished taping down the last bandage, her expression shifting back to its usual coolness.

"I was worried about Lucas. He's been running himself ragged over you."

"Fair enough," I said. "Still — please try not to worry too much about my husband. I've got a bad temper, and I'm not above using my hands."

I meant it lightly. But Daisy looked at me with a strange expression I couldn't quite read.

She picked up her kit. At the door, she paused with her back to me — and her tone, when she spoke, was flat but not quite hostile.

"Don't contact the woman called Sweet An again. She will get you killed."

Then she was gone.

A warning? Or a threat?

I lay there staring at the ceiling, genuinely unable to tell which one it had been.


After a while, lying still started to feel unbearable. I wanted to move, and I was hungry — my stomach had been quietly complaining for some time.

I eased myself to the edge of the bed and stood. My legs were unsteady, but they held. I could manage.

I made my way out of the bedroom and followed the corridor, unfamiliar with the layout, moving slowly.

I was passing a closed wooden door when I heard it.

Lucas's voice. Raised. Furious.

"Protect Elena's heart — that is your only priority. She cannot die on me. I have spent all this time carefully keeping her healthy for exactly one reason: her heart. I am going to transplant it. Do you understand me?"

My legs gave out.

I caught myself against the wall, one hand flying to my mouth to smother the sound that tried to escape.

Lucas.

My husband.

The courtship. The care. The home he'd made for me — every warm meal, every gentle word, every night I'd fallen asleep feeling safe and loved.

All of it to harvest my heart.

To cut it out of my chest and give it to someone else.

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