Behind me, I hear Astra cry out, a sound of pain that cuts through everything else.
“Astra!” Selene’s voice, panicked.
“The baby!” Astra gasps, and I risk a glance back.
She is doubled over, Selene supporting her weight, and I see the wetness spreading down her legs.
No. No. Not now.
“Astra, please…” Selene is practically dragging her.
But Astra straightens, her face contorted with pain and determination. Her eyes begin to glow with that strange, golden light that marks her unique power—the power to command any shifter. She’s aiming for Celeste’s wolf, trying to force her to submit.
Celeste laughs. The light flickers around her, and then, nothing. Astra’s power slides off her like water off stone.
“Nice try, Your Majesty.” Celeste’s smile is cruel. “But I’ve had a long time to learn how to shield against that particular trick.”
Astra crumples, another contraction tearing through her. “Selene…”
“I’ve got you,” Selene says, but she sounds terrified. “We just need to—”
Celeste lifts her hand toward the garden entrance, and the air begins to shimmer. The smell hits me first: decay, death, wrongness.
They come shambling through the garden gate. The guards. The ones who were supposed to protect Astra. Except now they’re dead, their skin gray and mottled, their eyes empty, white orbs. Blood stains their uniforms. Their weapons hang loose in already decomposing hands.
“No,” I breathe.
There are at least a dozen of them. Maybe more. They move with jerky, unnatural movements, spreading out to surround us.
“Stop them!” Selene screams at me, supporting Astra’s weight as another contraction hits.
I shift again, ignoring the pain in my ribs, and throw myself at the nearest undead guard. My teeth sink into dead flesh, and the taste is vile, wrong in every way. But I tear and rip anyway, trying to disable him, trying to give Astra and Selene time to escape.
But there are too many of them. Far too many.
A sword slices across my shoulder, and I yelp, spinning to face a new threat. Another blade catches my flank. I’m fast, but I’m one wolf against an army of the dead. They feel no pain, no fear. They just keep coming.
I hear Astra scream again, and through the chaos, I see Celeste stalking toward her, dark magic swirling around her hands.
I try to reach them, but three guards pile onto me, pinning me down. Dead hands grab my fur, pull at my legs. I thrash and snarl, but—
The garden gate explodes.
The wooden doors blast inward, ripped from their hinges by sheer force. Splinters spray like shrapnel. The undead guards nearest the entrance are thrown backward, scattered like leaves.
And then, they’re here.
Three massive wolves burst through the destroyed gateway, and the fury rolling off them is palpable, a physical force that makes the air itself tremble. They’re not just angry. They’re enraged.
The first wolf moves with power and deadly grace, muscles rippling beneath his coat. His eyes burn with absolute murderousness. Kieran. I recognize him instantly, and relief floods through me so powerfully, I almost go weak.
Beside him, another wolf nearly as large moves with deadly precision. Lucian. The King. His lips are peeled back from massive fangs, a low growl rumbling from his chest that sounds like an earthquake building.
The third wolf is slightly smaller but no less terrifying, his eyes fixed on the undead with predatory focus. Seth.
They don’t pause. They don’t assess. They attack.
Kieran hits the first line of undead like a battering ram, his jaws closing around a corpse’s neck and tearing. The head separates from the body with a wet crunch, and he tosses it aside like garbage before lunging for the next one. His movements are savage, efficient, and absolutely merciless.
