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

The night air was thick, heavy with tension, the kind that coiled tight in the space between them—a live wire waiting to snap.

Dante stood at the edge of the White Moon border, his entire body a storm of fury, desperation, and something darker—something primal.

Bella was one step away from leaving him forever.

And he wasn't going to let that happen.

She stood in front of him, her golden-brown eyes blazing with defiance, her bag slung over her shoulder like she was really about to walk into another Alpha's territory—walk into Sydney Hart's arms.

The very thought of it made Dante's blood boil, his wolf thrashing violently inside him.

"If she crosses that border, she's not ours anymore," Zephyr snarled in his mind. "Are you going to let another man touch what belongs to you?"

No.

Never.

Dante's voice was low, rough, edged with raw, dangerous possession.

"If you take one more step, Bella, I swear to the fucking Moon Goddess—I'll drag you back kicking and screaming."

Bella's breath hitched.

But she didn't back down.

She lifted her chin, eyes gleaming with fury and something else—something reckless.

"Try me."

Dante didn't think.

He moved.

Faster than she could react, faster than even he had time to register.

One second, she was standing there, taunting him.

The next—

Her bag was ripped from her shoulder, tossed aside.

Her body was pinned against the nearest tree, Dante's hands braced on either side of her head, caging her in.

Bella gasped, her back arching against the rough bark, her pulse hammering in her throat.

Dante leaned in, his breath hot, uneven, furious.

"Do you think this is a fucking game, Bella?" he growled, his lips brushing against her ear.

Bella's chest rose and fell rapidly, her nails digging into his forearms.

"I think you're too much of a coward to stop me," she taunted, even as her body betrayed her—her scent spiking, her thighs pressing together, the bond pulling tight like an unbreakable chain.

Dante let out a dark, low laugh, his nose trailing along her jaw, inhaling her scent.

"You really want to test me?" he murmured.

His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her throat—not to hurt her, but to hold her in place, to make her feel how close he was to completely losing control.

Bella shivered beneath him, but her gaze never wavered.

"You don't own me," she whispered.

Dante's grip tightened just enough to make her gasp.

"Don't I?"

And then—

He crushed his mouth against hers.

It wasn't a kiss.

It was a claim.

A punishment.

A reminder that no matter how much she fought him, no matter how far she tried to run—she was his.

Bella whimpered against his lips, her fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.

Dante felt it—the way her body melted against his, the way she surrendered despite every word that came out of her mouth.

She wanted this.

She wanted him.

And fuck, if she thought she could just leave without paying the price, she had another thing coming.

His hands roamed down her sides, gripping her thighs, lifting her effortlessly until she was wrapped around him, her legs locking tight around his waist.

Bella's head fell back against the tree, a gasp escaping her lips as Dante kissed down her throat, his teeth scraping against the delicate skin.

"You belong to me," he growled, his voice like gravel, like smoke and sin and everything dangerous.

Bella shuddered, her nails digging into his back.

"And if I don't?" she whispered, even as her body arched into him, even as her scent betrayed her with how badly she needed this.

Dante grinned against her skin, his fingers gripping her hips, grinding her against his hardness.

"Then I'll just have to convince you."

Bella let out a strangled moan, her hands sliding into his hair, pulling, demanding more.

The sound snapped something inside him.

His wolf took control, clawing to the surface, demanding to claim, to mark, to brand her with his teeth so no one would ever dare touch what was his.

"I should mark you right now," Dante rasped against her throat, his lips lingering over the spot where his bite should be.

Bella gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair.

"You wouldn't dare," she whispered.

Dante smirked, his tongue flicking against her skin, testing, teasing.

"Oh, sweetheart," he purred. "You have no idea what I'd dare."

Bella whimpered, her body trembling against his.

Dante's teeth grazed her skin again, his wolf snarling inside his head, demanding to mark her, to sink his fangs in and make sure no other man ever got the chance.

"Say it," he murmured, his voice low, commanding.

Bella's breath hitched.

"Say you're mine, Bella."

Silence.

Her body tensed in his hold.

And then—

"No."

Dante's entire body went rigid.

Bella's golden-brown eyes burned into his, fierce, unyielding.

"You don't get to claim me just because you're afraid of losing me," she said, her voice like a slow-burning fire. "You don't get to keep me just because you finally realized I'm worth fighting for."

Dante felt the words like a dagger straight to the chest.

Because she was right.

He had spent so long pushing her away, trying to convince himself that he didn't need her, that the mate bond was just an inconvenience.

And now?

Now he was begging her to stay.

Dante let out a slow, shuddering breath, his forehead pressing against hers, his fingers tightening on her hips.

"I don't want to fight anymore," he admitted, his voice raw, broken, real.

Bella searched his gaze, something flickering in her own—something just as raw, just as unguarded.

But then, slowly, she unwrapped her legs from his waist, pushing him away.

Dante's chest ached.

Because he knew—he hadn't won this battle yet.

Bella took a slow step back, her lips swollen, her breathing still uneven.

"You don't get to own me," she murmured. "Not until you're ready to be mine, too."

And with that, she turned and walked away.

Dante stood there, watching her go, feeling the loss like a fucking brand on his soul.

Because this time—this time, she wasn't just walking away.

She was making him chase her.

And for the first time in his life, Dante Rodrigo was ready to run.