“Four in sight,” I murmured, checking my crescent-forged pistol. “Probably more hidden.”
“Six.” Marcellus drew his own weapon. “Two perched on the roof. Amateurs — silhouette sharp against the moonlight.”
I studied him under the dark sky. The playful Alpha Prince was gone, replaced by a lethal predator whose movements whispered war.
“You’ve done this a lot.”
“More than I care to recount.” He checked his magazine. “Stay close. We’ll slip through the maintenance burrow.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I believe you could.” His fingers brushed my arm. “But we fight stronger together, don’t we?”
The maintenance tunnel was pitch-black, reeking of rust and old ocean magic. Our footsteps echoed despite soft pads on our boots. At the far end, voices drifted through the vent — Wintermoon wolves arguing.
“They’re trying to pry the moon-locked container open,” I whispered.
“Not much longer.” Marcellus pressed to the wall and gestured. “Ladies first.”
I rolled my eyes and stepped forward anyway. The cold metal of my weapon steadied my nerves as I advanced. Whatever was inside that container, Sorenna wanted it badly enough to risk a territorial war.