The moment they reached the abandoned village at the edge of the northern border, Bella knew something was wrong.
The air was too still.
The forest was too quiet.
Then—
"MOVE!"
Dante lunged at her, tackling her to the ground just as the first attack came.
Arrows rained from the trees.
Wolves emerged from the shadows—silent, fast, deadly.
They weren't random rogues.
They were trained killers.
Lilia's army.
And the worst part?
They were wearing the White Moon crest.
Bella's blood ran cold.
"She turned our own against us."
Sage snarled, shifting mid-air, her teeth sinking into one of the traitors.
Dante grabbed Bella, his grip tight, his breath sharp.
"We've been set up."
Bella's stomach twisted.
Because they weren't just outnumbered.
They had been expected.
And that meant Lilia was always one step ahead.
Again.