His Rogue Luna is a Princess (Mia and Derek) novel Chapter 66

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I turned.

A copper–furred wolf with slitted eyes was snarling in my direction. For one insane moment, I thought it was Nox.

Then I saw him.

A monstrous black wolf tore through the wreckage like a storm given flesh, his coat so dark

it drank in the light, save for the stark white streak slicing over his right ear like a battle

scar carved by the gods.

He was fast–so fast it took my breath away—and impossibly large. When he hit the rogue,

it was like watching a wall collapse on top of a twig.

Bones snapped. Blood sprayed. And then the body was airborne, discarded like trash.

Erebus.

My heart stuttered.

Derek.

I should’ve looked away. Should’ve turned and found someone else to help. But I couldn’t.

I watched him.

Watched the way he moved with terrifying purpose–no hesitation, no mercy. Feral and focused, like violence had always lived just beneath his skin, waiting for permission to

surface.

He was a monster. A weapon. A guardian. All wrapped into one form I knew too well.

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Chapter 66

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The battlefield seemed to bend around him, like gravity itself was leaning in. Even the rogues hesitated when he turned his head toward them, when those glowing eyes locked on their movement. They knew. They could sense it, same as I could.

That if they got too close, they’d be torn to shreds.

He wasn’t just fighting.

He was protecting.

And some primal part of me–my wolf, maybe–recognized him not as the man I hated but as the Alpha I’d once trusted to protect me. The bond may have frayed, but something of it remained. A ghost. A whisper.

My heart kicked hard against my ribs.

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And then, just like that, he was gone again. A blur of black tearing toward the next threat

before I could breathe his name.

Something twisted in my chest. A knot of fear, relief, and something else I didn’t want to

name.

I didn’t have time to examine it.

A cough, hoarse and dry, cut through the chaos.

My head snapped toward the sound.

An older woman–her dress scorched, her hair streaked with soot–was huddled against a half–toppled wall near the coat check. A Luna, from the looks of her.

Maybe Ridgewood. Maybe Aspenrun. Her left arm hung at an unnatural angle, and blood trickled down the side of her face, bright against the silver of her hair.

I didn’t hesitate.

I sprinted through the debris, ducking falling sparks and a toppled lighting fixture. The air

was thick with smoke and wolf scent and the iron tang of blood.

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I dropped to my knees beside her. “It’s okay,” I said, voice low and steady. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Her eyes met mine–wide, wet, and terrified. She gave the barest nod.

I slid my arm around her, careful of the injury, trying to haul her upright. “Just lean on me. I’ve got you.”

She whimpered but obeyed, her fingers clutching weakly at my shoulder. I shifted to brace more of her weight, trying to get her up-

And then something snatched me from behind.

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