CELESTRIA POV
The gunshot is so loud it makes my ears ring.
I don't think. Don't plan. My body just moves—throwing myself in front of Thorne as the silver bullet screams through the air.
This is it. This is how I die.
Not from poison like Dorian planned. But from a bullet meant for the man who tried to save me.
At least I'll die doing something that matters.
Time slows down. I can see the bullet spinning toward me. Can see Dorian's twisted smile. Can hear Thorne shouting my name.
Then something slams into me from the side.
I hit the ground hard, all the air knocked from my lungs. There's a body on top of me—heavy, protective.
Thorne.
He moved faster than the bullet, using his werewolf speed to tackle me out of the way.
The bullet hits the wall behind us with a crack.
"Stay down!" Thorne roars, covering my body with his.
More gunshots. The warriors are firing now, following Dorian's orders despite their hesitation.
But Thorne's already moving. He grabs the nearest piece of furniture—a heavy wooden table—and flips it on its side, creating a barrier between us and the bullets.
"Are you insane?" he growls at me, his silver eyes blazing. "You almost died!"
"So did you!"
"I'm an Alpha! I can take a bullet! You're—"
"What? Weak? Helpless?" Anger floods through me, hot and fierce. "I'm tired of everyone treating me like I'm made of glass! I made a choice, Thorne. I chose to save you!"
His expression softens for just a second. "Why?"
"Because you're the only person in six years who's actually tried to help me. Even if you went about it wrong."
A bullet slams into our makeshift shield. Wood splinters fly.
"Touching," Dorian's voice drips with sarcasm. "But you're both still going to die. You're trapped. Outnumbered. And that recording? I'll destroy it along with your bodies."
Thorne's jaw clenches. He pulls out his phone with one hand while keeping me behind him with the other.
"Kyver," he says into the phone. "Execute plan B. Now."
"What's plan B?" I whisper.
"Backup."
Outside, I hear engines. Multiple vehicles approaching fast.
Dorian hears it too. "What did you do?"
"I told you I wouldn't fail her again," Thorne says. "That includes having a contingency plan."
The cabin door crashes open.
But it's not more of Dorian's men.
It's Kyver—a huge, scarred wolf with gold eyes—leading a team of Nightfall Pack warriors. Ten of them. All armed. All ready to fight.
The energy in the room shifts instantly.
Dorian's six warriors are good. But Nightfall's warriors are legendary. Battle-hardened. Ruthless.
And suddenly, we're not outnumbered anymore.
"Alpha Quillan," Kyver's voice is cold as winter. "You're under arrest for attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and violations of the Wolf Accord. The Alpha Council has been notified. They're sending enforcers as we speak."
"You have no authority here!" Dorian snarls.
"Actually, we do." Kyver holds up a tablet showing an official document. "The recording Alpha Thorne sent to the Council was enough to issue an emergency warrant. You're done, Quillan."
I watch Dorian's face cycle through emotions—shock, rage, fear, and finally, calculation.
He's looking for a way out.
And then I see it. The shift in his eyes. The decision.
"If I'm going down," Dorian says quietly, "I'm taking her with me."
He raises his gun—not at Thorne this time.
At me.
"No!" Thorne lunges.
But Dorian's faster. His finger squeezes the trigger.
The gun fires.
I close my eyes, bracing for pain.
It doesn't come.
Instead, there's a heavy thud. A gasp.
I open my eyes.
Someone's standing between me and Dorian.
Someone who wasn't there a second ago.
Isolde.
My best friend, my ride-or-die, the one person who's always had my back.
She's holding her stomach. Blood seeps between her fingers.
"Isolde!" I scream.
She staggers, and I catch her before she falls.
"Hey, babe," she whispers, her voice weak. "Told you... I'd always... have your back."
"No, no, no!" Tears stream down my face. "Why did you—how did you—"
"Tracked your phone... when you didn't come home. Called Thorne's pack... they told me where you were." She coughs, blood on her lips. "Couldn't let my best friend... die alone."
"You're not dying! You're going to be fine!"
But the blood won't stop. It's spreading across her shirt, pooling on the floor.
Silver bullet. In her stomach. Possibly near her heart.
Thorne drops beside us. "Kyver! Get the pack doctor on the phone now! We need an emergency evac!"
Kyver's already moving, barking orders into his phone.
Dorian stands frozen, the gun still in his hand, staring at Isolde like he can't believe what he just did.
"I didn't—I wasn't aiming for her—"
"SHUT UP!" I scream at him. "Just shut up!"
Thorne's warriors surround Dorian, disarming him, forcing him to his knees.
But I don't care about Dorian anymore.
All I care about is Isolde, bleeding in my arms.
"Stay with me," I beg. "Please, Isolde. Don't leave me. You're all I have."
"Not true," she whispers. "You have... him." Her eyes flick to Thorne. "He's good... for you. Trust him."
"I will, I promise, just please—"
Her eyes flutter closed.
"Isolde? Isolde!"
Thorne checks her pulse. His face is grim. "She's alive. Barely. We need to move her now."
He scoops Isolde into his arms like she weighs nothing and runs for the door.
I follow, my legs shaking, my whole body trembling.
Outside, a helicopter is landing—Nightfall Pack's emergency medical transport.
Thorne carries Isolde inside. A doctor and two nurses swarm her immediately, shouting medical terms I don't understand.
"You need to stay here," the doctor tells me.
"No! She's my best friend! I'm not leaving her!"
"Ma'am, we need space to work—"
"Let her stay," Thorne orders. "She stays."
The doctor nods and returns to Isolde.
I hold Isolde's hand while they cut away her bloody shirt, while they insert IVs, while they work frantically to stop the bleeding.
Her heartbeat is so faint on the monitor. Barely there.
"We're losing her!" one nurse shouts.
"Not on my watch," the doctor growls. "Get me the silver extraction kit. Now!"
They work for what feels like hours but is probably only minutes.
Finally, the doctor steps back, his hands covered in blood.
"I've removed the bullet and stopped the major bleeding. But she's lost a lot of blood. The next twenty-four hours are critical."
"Will she live?" My voice breaks.
"I don't know. She's a fighter. But silver bullets... they're unpredictable. Sometimes the body heals. Sometimes it doesn't."
The helicopter lands at Nightfall Pack's medical center. They rush Isolde into surgery.
And I'm left standing in the hallway, covered in my best friend's blood, shaking so hard I can barely stand.
Thorne wraps a blanket around my shoulders. "She's strong. She'll make it."
"You don't know that."
"No. But I know she jumped in front of a bullet for you. That's not someone who gives up easily."
I sink into a chair, burying my face in my hands.
This is my fault. All of it.
If I hadn't gone to The Violet Hour, Dorian wouldn't have known about Thorne's investigation.
If I hadn't fought back, Isolde wouldn't have had to save me.
If I'd just stayed quiet and invisible like a good little Luna, none of this would've happened.
"Stop," Thorne says, kneeling in front of me. "I can see you blaming yourself. Don't. This is Dorian's fault. Not yours."
"She's dying because of me."
"She's fighting because she loves you. There's a difference."
Hours pass. Surgery continues.
Kyver arrives with updates: Dorian's been taken into custody. The Alpha Council has opened a full investigation. Senna and the doctor have been arrested.
The evidence Thorne gathered—plus Dorian's recorded confession—is damning.
"He'll be stripped of his Alpha title," Kyver says. "Possibly executed, depending on the Council's ruling."
I should feel relieved. Victorious.
Instead, I just feel numb.
Finally, the surgery doors open.
The doctor emerges, pulling off his bloody gloves.
His face is unreadable.
"She's alive," he says.
Relief floods through me so strong I almost collapse.
"But?" I can hear the "but" in his voice.
"But the silver did significant damage to her internal organs. Even with our best efforts, there's a complication."
"What kind of complication?"
The doctor takes a deep breath.
"The bullet nicked her wolf core. It's healing, but there's a chance—a strong chance—that she'll never be able to shift again. She might be fully human from now on."
The words hit like another bullet.
Isolde. My fierce, warrior best friend. Might never shift again.
Might lose her wolf forever.
Because she saved me.
"Can I see her?" I whisper.
"She's in recovery. Not conscious yet. But yes, you can sit with her."
I follow him to a private room where Isolde lies pale and still, hooked up to machines.
I take her hand, and that's when I finally break.
Sobs tear through me—ugly, gasping, gut-wrenching.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper. "I'm so, so sorry."
Behind me, Thorne's phone buzzes.
He answers, his voice low. "What is it, Kyver?"
I hear Kyver's response even from across the room:
"We have a problem. Senna escaped custody. And she left a message saying if Celestria doesn't turn herself in by dawn, she'll start killing innocent pack members. One every hour until Celestria surrenders."
My blood turns to ice.
This isn't over.
Not even close.