Page 50 of Moonlit Fate

I stepped forward. “Larkin became aggressive. He made advances I did not welcome and forced me to defend myself. I had to shift. That was when Atticus intervened.”

Ragnar looked toward the stranger who held the man he had chosen as his daughter’s mate against the wall. “And who might you be?” he growled.

“Atticus Sebastian Thorne,” I said before Atticus could speak, giving him the introduction he deserved. “He came to my aid.”

My father pointed at Larkin. “Release him.”

“Of course,” Atticus said, his tone smooth as silk yet edged with steel. “Provided he adheres to the terms we just agreed on.”

Larkin nodded reluctantly. “I won’t touch her,” he croaked. The shadows receded, releasing Larkin to stumble forward, regaining his composure. His chest heaved as he shot me a look that burned with resentment.

“Tell your side,” Ragnar demanded of Larkin, his fury barely contained.

“Sir, it was all a misunderstanding.” Larkin straightened his shirt and attempted to regain some semblance of dignity. “Things simply got... blown out of proportion.”

“Is that so?” Atticus said darkly. Instantly, his shadows lashed out once more, slamming Larkin back against the wall with a force that rattled the frames on the walls. “We do not appreciate lies here, do we? Which part is it that you think got blown out of proportion, Larkin? When Aria said no, or when she had to shift in order to defend herself?”

“Atticus.” I grabbed his arm, both shocked and thrilled at his display. We were playing a dangerous game, but I couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline that surged through me.

“Stop that this instant,” Ragnar said sharply. “I will not have this spectacle in my house.”

The balance of power shifted in the room. Larkin, caught in the vise-like grip of Atticus’s shadows, had gone from predator to prey. And Atticus stood as my unexpected champion. Whatever happened next would change the course of our fates forever.

“I don’t know what you think is happening here between you and my daughter, but it ends tonight.” My father stood tall, every inch the alpha, his presence dominating the space even as the darkness loomed ominously. “You are not part of this pack. You have no right to barge into my home or onto my land uninvited.”

I swallowed hard. The room spun slightly as I tried to ground myself, the heat of my wolf bristling just beneath my skin, ready to defend again if needed. It was hard to believe that mere seconds ago, I had been cornered and helpless. Now here was Atticus, standing between me and the future I dreaded.

Atticus was surprisingly calm. “And you, Ragnar,” he said, his cold, ice-blue eyes fixed on my father, “have failed to keep her safe in your own house.” His shadows crept closer to my father, a silent threat that made even the mighty alpha’s resolve waver. “Since you cannot guarantee her safety, she will be coming with me.”

My father’s eyes widened, alarm dancing across his features for the briefest of moments before his mask of authority settled back into place.

“She will not.” He moved farther into the room, his words a low rumble that vibrated through the floor.

The sight of Larkin immobilized by the ever-shifting shadows that Atticus controlled so effortlessly was empowering. I couldn’t help my peculiar fascination as Larkin’s face went from pale, to red, to purple as the shadows cut off his oxygen supply. His fear emanated a pungent odor that permeated the room. I had to wonder exactly what quality my father thought he saw that made Larkin suitable to be my mate. He was a coward and working with the enemy. Once again, I cursed the unfair pack politics that favored Larkin. Atticus, who possessed ten times the integrity, would be dismissed.

When Atticus withdrew his shadows, Larkin collapsed to the floor, the carpet providing a small amount of cushioning. He lay still on the floor, filling his lungs with air. The only sign of his anger was the curling of his fists. Larkin was no longer an immediate threat.

I turned my attention back to Atticus and my father.

“Ragnar,” Atticus said, as if discussing the weather rather than challenging an alpha in his own lair, “your threats hold no sway over me. As you just pointed out. I do not answer to your pack, and certainly not to a man who cannot protect what is precious within his own walls.”

For an instant, I allowed myself to marvel at the sheer audacity of the man. He was defying my father so openly. No one had ever done that. There was something undeniably alluring about his confidence, so unshakeable even in the face of such opposition.

“Your arrogance will be your undoing,” Ragnar said, though his voice had lost some of its authority.

Atticus merely smiled, a slow, predatory grin that hinted at battles yet to be fought.

I stepped in between my father and Atticus. “I need space.”

The words were tiny rebellions, each syllable a step away from the life I’d always known, the life expected of me. My father’s desire to tether me to his will had trapped me. A maelstrom of emotions raged in me now, the clashing forces of pack loyalty and Atticus, so strong that I struggled to find clarity. I needed space, room to breathe. To break free from the suffocating confines of duty and tradition that had held me captive for far too long.

My father made to grab my arm. Before another word could escape my lips, Atticus’s presence surged forward, filling the room with an almost physical darkness that commanded attention. Shadows bent to his will, wrapping us in a protective embrace that was both thrilling and terrifying.

“You might want to rethink that,” Atticus said. It was a warning cloaked in velvet darkness, a declaration that he would not be moved.

Caught between the man who had raised me and the rogue who had captured my heart, I knew that no matter which way Ichose, there would be consequences. With Atticus by my side, I might have the bravery to face them.

“Let’s go.” Atticus extended his hand, an offer of escape, of protection. My fingers wavered as I slipped my hand into his. The touch was electric, grounding yet igniting every nerve within me.

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