Bound by Fate, Torn by war(THE LUNA’S WAR)

Bella's scream ripped through the battlefield.

Dante saw red.

His wolf snapped the last chains of restraint, and in that moment, he was no longer an Alpha. No longer a man.

He was a monster.

A beast made of rage, fury, and the need to kill.

Nikolai Reznov had his mate.

And Dante was going to tear him apart limb by limb.

With a feral snarl, Dante leaped from his position, his massive black wolf barreling through warriors, his fangs snapping bones, his claws ripping through flesh like it was nothing.

The air was thick with blood, screams, and the sound of death.

But Dante only had one target.

Nikolai.

The bastard was dragging Bella backward, his grip tight around her throat, his silver blade pressed against the delicate skin just below her jaw.

Bella was fighting.

Her white wolf thrashed in his hold, her claws swiping at his legs, but Nikolai was strong, and the silver dagger in his hand kept her weakened.

"Let her go!" Chase snarled from across the battlefield, but Nikolai only grinned, his icy blue eyes flickering with amusement.

"Oh, I don't think so," Nikolai purred, his voice a mocking whisper. He dragged the blade slowly along Bella's throat, just enough to draw blood. "She smells too sweet. Maybe I'll keep her for myself."

Wrong move.

Very. Fucking. Wrong. Move.

Dante snapped.

He shifted back into human form mid-leap, not caring that he was naked, not caring that the entire pack was watching.

Because all he cared about was killing this son of a bitch.

He tackled Nikolai to the ground, the force of it sending a brutal shockwave through the earth.

The dagger went flying, clattering against the rocks.

Bella collapsed to her knees, coughing, blood dripping from the cut on her neck.

But Dante didn't stop to check on her.

Because Nikolai had just sealed his own death sentence.

Dante punched him once—hard enough to hear the crack of bone—and then he grabbed him by the throat, slamming his head against the dirt, again and again, and again.

"You think you can touch her?" Dante snarled, his voice a guttural roar of pure rage.

Nikolai spat blood, grinning up at him, teeth stained red.

"She was begging for it, Alpha," he taunted. "Maybe if you—"

Dante's claws tore through his throat before he could finish the sentence.

A wet, gurgling sound filled the air.

Blood spilled onto the ground, dark and thick.

Nikolai's eyes widened in shock.

Then he went still.

Dead.

Gone.

Dante let out a shuddering breath, his entire body vibrating with rage, his hands still shaking from the force of the kill.

The battlefield fell silent.

The Indiana warriors stopped fighting, stunned.

Even Viktor Drakov himself looked momentarily surprised,

But Dante didn't care about any of them.

Because the only thing that mattered—the only thing—was Bella.

His mate.

His Luna.

The Aftermath

Bella was still on her knees, her hand pressed against the wound on her throat, her breath ragged and uneven.

Dante was at her side in an instant.

His hands were on her before he could stop himself, gripping her face, his thumbs skimming over her cheekbones, checking for any more wounds.

"Are you hurt?" His voice was rough, raw, broken.

Bella swallowed hard, blinking up at him.

"I'm fine," she rasped, her voice hoarse from the pressure Nikolai had put on her throat.

Liar.

Dante could see the pain in her eyes, the way her entire body was still trembling.

She had almost been taken from him.

And if that had happened—if he had lost her—

He would have burned the entire fucking world to the ground.

His arms wrapped around her before he could think, pulling her against his chest, holding her so tightly it was almost crushing.

Bella let out a sharp breath, her fingers instinctively gripping his back.

"Dante…" she whispered.

But he just buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent, trying to calm the raging storm inside him.

"You are never leaving my sight again," he growled, his voice dangerously low, dangerously possessive.

Bella stiffened.

And then, like a flame reigniting, her rage returned.

She shoved against his chest, hard enough to force space between them.

Dante frowned, his brows furrowing. "Bella—"

"Don't you dare," she snapped, fire burning in her golden-brown eyes. "Don't you fucking dare act like you suddenly care."

Dante stilled.

The battlefield was silent around them, but his world was shattering all over again.

Bella's chest heaved, her hands clenching into fists.

"You don't get to disappear for weeks, you don't get to ignore me, you don't get to push me away over and over again, and then act like I'm yours when it's convenient for you!" she hissed.

Dante's jaw clenched. "You are mine, Bella."

"No," she whispered. "Not like this."

Dante's breath caught.

Because for the first time, there was pain in her voice.

Real, raw, aching pain.

"You keep saying you don't want this," she murmured, voice breaking. "So why are you fighting for me now?"

Dante opened his mouth—but no words came out.

Because he didn't have an answer.

Bella let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.

"That's what I thought."

And then, before he could stop her—

She turned and walked away.

And for the first time in his life, Dante Rodrigo didn't know how to fix it.