Page 135 of Full Moon
Three. Two. One.
In a single fluid motion, his right hand pulls off the sunglasses while his left twists the knob, flinging the door open with a force that reverberates through the room. Time seems to slow as the door slams against the wall with a bang that echoes like a gunshot, and my pulse hammers against my ribs as Feray's icy blue eyes cut through the dim light like glowing beacons.
Her breath escapes in a frost-laden exhale that hangs in the air like a misty threat, and beside her, Khal moves with his usual deadly grace, his eyes gleaming faint silver in the low light.
The man standing before them has been frozen mid-step, turned to stone in the instant before he could strike. His hand remains suspended mid-gesture, holding a flickering ball of magic that disintegrates into nothingness like dust in the wind. Time itself has seized him, trapping him forever in the moment he realized he'd picked the wrong target.
My grip tightens as fire flickers hotter in my palm, eager to unleash itself. They keep coming for her, and each time, the rage simmers a little closer to the surface until I can barely control the heat rolling under my skin. How many more have they sent? How many more will they sacrifice in their futile attempts to capture her?
Khal's eyes flicker as he scans the hallway, his gaze cold and calculating. "All clear," he murmurs, but his voice carries no relief—we both know this is just the beginning.
Torben doesn't wait for further instruction. With a quick nod from Khal, he steps forward, his massive form dwarfing the frozen mage as he effortlessly grabs the statue and pulls it into the room as if it weighs nothing. I watch the eerie stillness of the mage's face, frozen in fear, and feel no satisfaction—only the grim certainty that more will follow.
The air feels thick and charged with the remnants of dark magic, the wrongness of it coating my tongue like ash. This isn't over. They'll send more—they always do. And next time, I don't think I'll be able to hold the fire back.
"We need to leave.Now."
Khal shuts the door, but his phone immediately erupts in a frenzy of notifications. He stares down at the screen with his brow furrowing before nodding slowly, his eyes turning cold as winter steel.
"The mages are moving, but not the witches. They want to control the spirit of winter." His gaze shifts to Feray, and I feel the weight of it, the unspoken truth settling over us like a shroud. It's her they want—it's always been her. The spirit of winter. The last winter wolf. A weapon they think they can control.
Feray growls, the sound raw and fierce as she shifts back to her human form with her eyes remaining that same ice-blue, burning with the same intensity as her wolf's. The scar on the left side of her face catches the light, now shimmering silver from her hairline to her jaw, and she's never looked more dangerousor more untouchable as she stares each of us down with a fury that burns colder than anything I could ever conjure. "I am no one's prey. Not anymore.Never again."
My chest swells with pride because I've never been more in awe of her than I am in this moment. "We'll burn the world to ash if we have to," I say, fist-bumping Diaval as the fire in me continues to simmer, hungry for release.
Khal smirks as he leans casually on the petrified mage. "Consider your sculpture garden started, Precious."
Torben cracks his knuckles, a feral smile creeping across his face as something darker surfaces in him—something that's been lurking beneath his calm exterior, finally unleashed. "I'll tear apart anything that tries to touch you," he growls, and for the first time, I truly see him as the predator he is.
We're ready for whatever comes next.
We'll destroy anyone who comes for her.
And may the gods have mercy on those who try—because we won't.
