Roman’s POV
The commandos that went to the main house found no one there and came to the lawn as well. which bought us more time to target them successfully.
We had already scattered, flanking from every direction. Every guard, every trained soldier under our command was now a storm of bullets and precision, cutting down anything that moved toward the side house.
They thought they had brought war to our doorstep.
But they were walking straight into hell.
I was certain that once all of this was over, we’d have far too many bodies to bury—our enemies’, and unfortunately, some of our own.
As for these choppers... we’d keep them. A fitting gift from those who dared to invade our home.
Through the earpieces secured to our ears, Lucian’s commandos kept feeding us real-time updates from various parts of the estate. Lucian himself relayed the situation from our side and issued commands with practiced precision, directing the counteroffensive like a seasoned general.
Everything seemed to be going exactly as it should. Our side was holding strong. The enemies were being taken down with brutal efficiency.
Until a commando informed us: the gates of the estate, which were securely protected, had been breached. A new group of enemies had somehow managed to enter without any obstacle, and they were marching inside.
There was a traitor among our people.
But now, there was no time to question how it had happened. All that mattered now was stopping them.
Gunfire thundered all around us. Ammunition on both sides was running low. It wouldn’t be long before this battle was no longer fought with weapons, but with claws and fangs. It would soon come down to our beast forms—brutal, primal, and merciless.
We were ready.
But then something happened that none of us had expected.
A familiar figure in an off-white dress was walking toward the enemy without any fear, her steps slow but steady and determined.
Eira.
What was she doing outside instead of in that safe room?
"That bitch," Lucian muttered under his breath, his voice crackling through the comms. He’d seen her first—he was closest to her position.
Lucian turned toward us, fury blazing in his eyes. "You two keep going. I’ll drag her back inside by her damn hair. Or kill her myself if I have to."
We understood his rage. Everything we were doing—all the blood being shed—was to protect her. And here she was, stepping straight into danger as if her life, and ours, meant nothing.
"We’ll cover you," I said quickly.
Rafe and I kept firing, drawing the enemies’ attention and clearing the path for Lucian to move. But as more enemy soldiers poured in, we were forced to shift our focus. The fight was tightening around us, leaving us no room to assist Lucian directly.
"Don’t worry about me," he told us and broke away from cover, gun in hand, pushing forward toward Eira.
But then, two enemy soldiers reached her first. Their guns were pointed at her—but they lowered their hands, as they were not here to kill her, but to take her with them.
Lucian fired a clean shot, taking down one of the enemy soldiers, while moving ahead swiftly.
But when he shot for the second, he was met with silence.
No bullets.
Damn it! He cursed angrily, threw the gun away while keep running towards them.
The remaining soldier aimed at him, but before that Lucian had already transformed into his wolf form and took a huge leap at the soldier. He was too fast to be even seen. That was him, always the best and strongest on the battle field.
The gun shot rang out.
But the next sound was the sickening crack of bones and a gurgling choke as the enemy’s head was torn clean from his shoulders.
Lucian had killed that bastard in a blink of an eye.
A heartbeat later, the blood-soaked wolf faced her—Eira. His eyes furious, radiating like heat across the battlefield. But even in his rage, we knew he wouldn’t harm her.
He began to move toward her, but the next moment he collapsed.
His body crumpled mid-stride, shifting back into his human form as he hit the ground.
"Lucian!" Rafe and I shouted in unison, our voices breaking over the comms, over the chaos. Pain surged through the bond we shared with him, sharp and searing.
He was hurt.
No—he was shot.
"Cover me. I’m going to him," I ordered rafe, already abandoning my position.
Rafe nodded quickly.
The panic Rafe’s his face mirrored my own. We could both feel Lucian’s pain deep within our chests, through our shared bonds.
He’d been shot with a silver bullet. Not just any kind, but one crafted to kill the strongest of Alphas—deadly, merciless.
I hurried to him, shooting in between, while Rafe cleared the path for me. Bullets hissed past me, but Rafe didn’t let a single one near. My legs moved on instinct, mind cold with fury, eyes trained on every enemy in sight.
Eira stood nearby, motionless. Her eyes were wide, her body frozen in place as she stared at Lucian’s blood-covered form.
Shock consumed her.
But all I felt was rage.
I wanted to shoot her. Right there. More than any of the enemies around me, she felt like the real reason behind this nightmare.
Once again, because of her, we were about to lose someone we loved.
If Lucian died... I wouldn’t hesitate.
I would be the one to end her.
And it wouldn’t be quick. It wouldn’t be clean. Every ounce of effort I’d put into protecting her—every drop of blood spilled in her name—she had turned to ash in a single, careless moment.
That bitch deserved to die.
Lucian had been right all along. We should’ve killed her the very first day.
It was my fault. I was the one who insisted on bringing her home.
And if Lucian didn’t make it through this...
After killing her, I will kill myself as well.