Chapter 9: The Hunt Begins

Celia's heart pounded as the weight of Damon's words settled over her.

"They know you're here."

The air in the room was thick with tension, every second stretching unbearably as the knock on the door echoed in her mind.

Killian had already moved, yanking the door open. A young warrior stood in the dimly lit hallway, his breathing ragged, his eyes wide with urgency.

"They breached the outer perimeter," he said quickly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"The guards are holding them back, but they won't last long."

Celia felt the blood drain from her face.

Damon let out a slow, measured breath, his entire body thrumming with restrained fury.

"How many?"

"At least two dozen."

Killian swore under his breath.

"They sent a hunting party."

Celia's stomach twisted. "Hunting party?"

Damon's eyes darkened.

"They're not here for war, Celia. They're here for you."

Her breath caught in her throat.

Killian turned to Damon.

"We need to get her out of here. If they breach the house—"

"They won't," Damon cut him off, his voice steel.

"Secure the eastern wing. I'll handle this."

"Damon—"

"Go."

Killian hesitated, his jaw tightening before he nodded sharply and disappeared down the hallway.

Celia barely had a second to process before Damon grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the balcony doors.

"Wait—where are we going?" she demanded.

Damon didn't stop.

"There's a passage beneath the pack house. It leads to the forest. You'll run."

Celia dug her heels into the wooden floor.

"Run? I thought you said I had to stay and fight!"

Damon spun to face her, his grip tightening on her wrist, his expression fierce.

"There's a difference between fighting and getting slaughtered. You're not ready for this, Celia."

She opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, a deafening boom shook the walls.

Dust rained from the ceiling.

A second explosion followed, and then—shouts. Snarls. The unmistakable sound of wolves shifting and metal clashing.

They were here.

Celia's breath came in shallow gasps.

Damon cursed under his breath. He grabbed her by the waist, lifting her effortlessly. Before she could protest, he had her against the wall, pressing a hidden panel. The wooden boards slid away to reveal a dark passageway.

Celia's eyes widened. "What—"

"No time," Damon growled. He set her down inside the narrow corridor.

"Follow this tunnel until you reach the clearing. Someone will be waiting for you."

She shook her head.

"I'm not leaving you."

Damon's eyes flashed. "You don't have a choice."

Another explosion rocked the house. Somewhere down the hall, a howl of agony pierced the night.

Celia's chest tightened.

Damon cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek. His voice softened just enough to make her heart ache.

"I'll find you, Celia. But right now, you have to go."

She hesitated for only a second before she turned and ran.

The tunnel was narrow, the walls damp with age. Her footsteps echoed as she moved as fast as she could, her pulse thrumming with fear.

Keep running. Don't look back.

But the moment she saw the faint glow of moonlight ahead, a cold chill ran down her spine.

She wasn't alone.

Celia stopped, her breath catching in her throat.

A figure stood at the end of the tunnel, cloaked in shadows.

She took a step back. "Who—"

The figure lunged.

Celia barely had time to react before she was tackled to the ground. A heavy weight pinned her, the scent of blood and earth filling her senses.

A snarl sounded above her, hot breath fanning against her skin.

Instinct took over. She twisted, using the momentum to throw her attacker off.

They hit the ground hard, but before she could scramble to her feet, a sharp pain shot through her arm.

Claws.

Her vision blurred as she kicked out, connecting with her attacker's ribs.

A grunt of pain followed, and in the dim light, she saw the flash of yellow eyes.

A rogue.

Panic clawed at her throat. She reached blindly, her fingers curling around a loose stone on the ground.

The rogue lunged again.

Celia swung.

The impact was sickening. The rogue stumbled, giving her just enough time to push to her feet.

She didn't wait for him to recover. She turned and ran.

The tunnel gave way to the forest, the scent of pine and damp earth filling her lungs. Moonlight spilled through the trees, casting eerie shadows.

She forced herself to move, her injured arm throbbing with every step.

Something rustled behind her.

Celia didn't look back.

Branches whipped at her face as she pushed forward. She didn't know where she was going—only that she had to keep moving.

A howl split the night air.

Too close.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

Then—movement ahead.

She skidded to a stop, her breath hitching.

A figure stepped out from behind the trees, tall and imposing.

Not a rogue.

Not a warrior.

But someone she recognized.

Killian.

Relief flooded her—until she saw his face.

His eyes weren't on her. They were on something behind her.

Celia turned—just in time to see another rogue burst through the undergrowth.

She braced for impact, but before it could reach her, Killian moved.

Fast.

A flash of silver.

A gurgled snarl.

Then silence.

The rogue crumpled at her feet, Killian's dagger buried deep in its chest.

Celia's knees nearly gave out.

Killian grabbed her arm, steadying her. "Are you hurt?"

She nodded, unable to form words.

His eyes flickered to the blood on her sleeve, his jaw tightening. "We need to keep moving."

"Damon—"

"He's handling it," Killian said. "But if they sent this many after you, there will be more."

Celia swallowed hard.

Killian pulled her forward. "Come on."

She didn't argue this time.

As they disappeared into the trees, Celia cast one last glance behind her.

The body of the rogue lay still, its blood seeping into the earth.

And somewhere, in the distance, another howl rang through the night.

The hunt had only just begun.