Chapter 10 Those Who Were Told to Wait
(Roman POV)
Roman did not hesitate this time. He ran towards the balcony trying to understand what was happening. He looked at the red wolf. She hawled so loud that every wolf in the castle answered in a way that showed her importance. The red wolf looked around looking satisfied of the welcome. Then she just took off..
The instant the red wolf vanished into the forest, Romans control shattered. The shock, the awe, the wrongness of what he had just witnessed collapsed inward—and his wolf surged forward like a released blade.
Bone tore.
Heat ripped through him.
The world dropped away.
When his paws struck the stone below the balcony, it felt like coming home to violence. He hit the ground running, breath tearing through his chest, senses exploding outward as the forest opened itself to him in scent and sound.
She was fast.
Too fast.
The red wolf tore through the undergrowth with a grace that mocked distance, moonlight flickering along her path like it followed her by choice. Every instinct in Roman screamed not hunt—but follow.
Then he felt it.
Another presence.
Waiting.
Roman skidded to a halt at the tree line.
A wolf stepped forward from the shadows.
Male.
Large.
Dark-furred—nearly black, the kind of coat that swallowed moonlight instead of reflecting it. He stood perfectly still, head lifted, posture alert but not aggressive.
Silver-grey eyes met Roman’s.
Recognition slammed through Roman’s wolf so violently it staggered him.
We know him, his wolf growled.
But for some reason he could not remember how or where and that annoyed him.
The dark wolf did not snarl.
He did not bare his teeth.
He launched forward—past Roman.
Straight after the red wolf.
A snarl ripped from Roman’s chest as instinct took over. He gave chase, the forest blurring as both wolves tore through it, branches snapping, earth scattering beneath their weight.
They burst into a moonlit clearing.
The red wolf stood at its center.
Waiting.
The moment she turned, the air changed.
Power radiated from her—not wild, not feral, but deliberate. The Blood Moon flared above, bathing her in light that revealed more than Roman had seen before.
Silver markings pulsed along her body like living script.
The dark wolf slowed instantly.
Roman did not.
His wolf lunged.
The dark wolf met him head-on.
They collided in a thunder of muscle and fury, claws and teeth flashing as they rolled across the forest floor. Roman struck hard, fast—trained brutality honed over years of war.
The dark wolf matched him.
Not with rage.
With restraint.
He blocked, redirected, absorbed. He did not try to kill.
He tried to hold.
Roman tore free with a snarl, circling again—
And the red wolf moved.
She stepped between them.
The effect was immediate.
Roman’s wolf skidded back as if he’d struck an invisible wall, chest heaving, every instinct screaming protest. The dark wolf froze mid-motion, muscles locked, head lowering by instinct alone.
The forest bowed.
Enough.
The word did not sound.
It landed.
Roman’s wolf trembled, torn between fury and obedience.
This is not the night, the red wolf continued, her voice carrying not as command—but as truth.
Roman felt it then.
Not submission.
Recognition.
The dark wolf lifted his head, eyes fixed on her with something that was not devotion—but discipline.
I was told to wait, the dark wolf said, his voice steady, controlled.
To protect you when the moon finally called you back.
Roman went still.
Called you back.
The words settled deep, wrong and undeniable.
The red wolf’s silver-marked fur pulsed beneath the moonlight.
Not here, she answered calmly.
Not like this.
Her gaze turned to Roman.
Not hostile.
Not fearful.
Judging.
Go back, she told them both.
We will speak when the moon allows it.
Roman’s wolf resisted.
Just for a heartbeat.
Then something older than pride forced him to step back.
The dark wolf mirrored the movement, inclining his head once—a warrior’s acknowledgment.
The red wolf turned and ran.
Not fleeing.
Leading.
Roman watched her disappear into the trees, breath burning in his chest.
The dark wolf lingered a moment longer, eyes following her path.
Then he stepped away—not retreating, but moving parallel, melting into shadow with the patience of someone who had never stopped waiting.
Roman shifted back at the forest’s edge, breath ragged, blood cooling along his shoulder where teeth had broken skin.
The forest felt… altered.
Like it had accepted a new truth.
That was no rogue.
No challenger.
No coincidence.
Roman lifted his gaze to the Blood Moon, blazing high and merciless above the canopy.
The Lost Luna had awakened.
And the Moon Goddess had not only brought her back.
She had prepared guardians.
Roman turned toward the path Selene had taken.
“This changes everything,” he muttered.
His wolf said nothing.
It didn’t need to.
They both knew.
