Page 152 of King Luna

Noah doesn’t see it. No one does.

This is it; the reason they’re stalling.

They’re going to shoot us to death, just like our fathers.

Chapter 32

It’s happening faster than I can think: Noah leaps, shifting into an enormous, snarling black wolf mid-air, forcing wolves to lean away as they prepare to run. Meanwhile, the loaded barrel in the bushes raises, millimeter by millimeter, lighting my insides on fire.

I stop thinking. My wolf takes over, and shemoves.

One breath, I’m standing in petrified horror. The next, I’m all fur and teeth, tackling Noah to the ground. A bang sounds off before I can register it, striking hot, acidic fear into my heart.

But we’re unharmed.

I trust Noah to get back up and defend himself from Mason. If we all want to live, I’m forced to set aside his well-being for now; I’ve locked eyes with the gunman. A chill digs beneath my fur at the merciless disgust in his eyes.

He’s furious. I’ve warned everyone of his vile intentions, creating a stampede of wolves bolting across the field, and moving targets limit his ability to aim.

So I take to the shadows. Leaping to my paws, I cut across the field into the brush. As more shots are fired, it’s clear there are multiple gunmen along the forest’s edge. Chaos unfolds, the Super Pack peeling back from the firing zone as our wolves scramble. Fear crisscrosses with anger in my chest, tightening my jaw as I keep low to the ground at the sound of Noah’s barking commands on the field.

When Noah charges in—his brutal smack across Mason’s chest spilling the first blood—it isn’t logical for the Super Packto waste their time tracking me as I disappear deeper into the forest.

Or so they think. I silence my paws, weaving through the forest with eyes on my target: the first gunman I saw, rising to his feet for a better view. He and his friends create so much intentional distress—chuckling as they watch us scurry—that they don’t think to search for hunters on their trail. Making a wide arc, I come at him sideways, silent as I fly through the brush.

He doesn’t have a chance to pull the trigger again.

My jaws come down on bone, a viciouscrunchtwitching my ears. Spitting the Alpha’s sour blood to the dirt, I don’t stop when I hear him screaming behind me; I’m already burying his friend into the brush with me, crushing his trigger arm too.

Noah, six gunmen were hidden at the edge of the forest. There are four more; I already took down two. Someone still needs to confiscate their weapons,I mindlink.

I feel Noah’s panic in our bond, but I’m grateful for it—it means he’s alive, likely having to fight off the Alpha-domination wolves who stayed to fight in wolf-to-wolf combat, as we originally expected.

Meanwhile, I’m now a major target. Not two, but three gunmen scream at the top of their lungs, rolling on the forest floor.

I thought I’d be disgusted with myself for hurting them, but I’m too horrified by their actions to process my own yet: they reek of Alpha pheromones, boasting of their “innate strength.” And yet, they know they can’t defeat Noah face to face, so the cowards tried to shoot him to death. They almost did.

My guts twist at the thought, forcing me to the ground. I rub my white fur in the mud, shimmying to camouflage myself in the shadows as I catch my breath. Pausing allows me to track them closer, my ears rotating every which way to focus in on theirconversation between picking up on every thrashing wolf on the field. As far as I can hear and smell, my count is still accurate: three reeking gunmen remain. They yell at one another in an attempt to find me, but it’s more like slinging insults for not being Alpha enough to shoot an Omega. Their volume allows me to move faster, not having to put as much emphasis into keeping my shaky paws silent.

“Where is that bitch?” The man closest to me snarls beneath his breath, showing me his back.

It’s too late for him. When he finally spots me, turning over his shoulder, my snout parts the bushes behind him. In two nibbles, I’ve ruined his ability to shoot too.

Noah meets my eyes across the forest—just as three more sneaky Lycans on our side burst from the brush beside me, teaming up to take down the remaining gunmen. Johannes dashes in to gather the weapons, bolting as fast as he can back to the lodge. With all guns officially out of sight, my jaw loosens, allowing me to pant in relief.

When all gunfire and human yelling stop, only the sound of snarling and yelping wolves remains.

Shifted Lycans immerse themselves deep into the woods with us, and the game of hunt changes; now we’re on an equal playing field.

I’m supposed to protect our Lunas, but now that the immediate danger has left, an adrenaline crash hits. With paws as heavy as my whole body, I’m forced to quiver in the brush, huffing with my tongue out as I recover my energy.

And my eyes don’t want to leave my mate yet. Noah throws himself at Mason, over and over again, with deep, wet snarls. Except it’s not just Mason he’s attacking; he’s having to juggle fending off Mason on top of multiple other Alphas—all targeting him, specifically. Our allies join his side, and for a moment,I freeze, stunned by my mate spilling more blood, his claws gashing every wolf’s pelt who dares approach.

Violence unfolds unlike anything I've seen before, new injuries and clashes spinning my head every second. Thankfully, top leaders on our side are doing their jobs of keeping the focus off the Lunas who can’t fight—who have hopefully entered the lodge by now.

But as I shake my coat free of leaves and debris, ready to jump back in to help, a prowling wolf catches my eye. Rather than entering the fight in the forest, he’s exiting the brush—replacing one paw after another with his eyes locked onto a horde of wolves nearest the lodge.

My heart drops. Are those the Lunas who can’t fight? Why are they still outside?

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