Lucian
My legs were failing. Each step was agony, each movement forced by willpower alone. My body was shredded, my strength slipping away, and I was just pushing—one enemy at a time, one breath after another.
Then I heard it.
Gunfire. Loud, rapid, relentless. But the voices—they were female. Fierce. Angry.
Uncompromising.
I turned, blood dripping from my claws, and dared to look.
A surge of women stormed the battlefield, silver bullets flying, their aim merciless. Their fury was surgical. Precise. Ruthless. And beautiful.
In the middle of the chaos, there she was.
Mara.
Rage written on her face. Vengeance in her eyes. She moved like death incarnate, gunning down the markless wolves with terrifying precision. I’d never seen her like this. And gods, it broke something in me—in the
