It begins with a scream.
Sharp. Sudden. Cut short.
Aria’s eyes snap open.
The camp is already in chaos.
Flames lick through the trees. The night is shattered by clashing steel, snapping jaws, and the deafening roar of wolves shifting mid-battle. Shadows move too fast, too precise.
They didn’t stumble onto the camp.
They came prepared.
“They’re inside the perimeter!” someone shouts.
Aria is already moving.
“Defensive lines—NOW!” her voice cuts through the panic like a blade.
Warriors rush to formation, but the enemy is relentless—coordinated, ruthless. These aren’t scattered attackers. This is a calculated strike.
A hunt.
And they are the prey.
Bodies hit the ground.
Blood stains the earth.
Aria fights through the chaos, her wolf surging beneath her skin, claws tearing throug
