### Chapter Forty – The Blood in the Air ###Bryan spat a thread of blood into the dust, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and leaned heavier against the cracked wall. His knuckles were split raw, his shirt soaked with sweat and wolf blood. His chest heaved as though it had forgotten how to breathe evenly.But still, he smiled.“That wasn’t so bad,” he rasped, voice playful despite the ache in his ribs. “I’d give that wave a solid six out of ten. They didn’t even mess up my good side.”Mayer crouched beside him, sliding a fresh clip into her weapon before staring at him. Her sharp eyes scanned his wounds, his arm torn open, his side bruised dark, his knuckles was even barely recognizable.“Your good side?” she muttered, tearing a strip of cloth from her own sleeve. “You don’t have one.”She pressed the makeshift bandage to his arm. Bryan hissed but didn’t flinch away.“Careful,” he said through clenched teeth. “I bruise easily.”Her stare was flat. “You are a bruise.”Bruno,

### Chapter Forty-Two – Blood of the Same Moon ### The battlefield trembled as Amark approached, each stride radiating authority that no wolf, no hunter, could deny. His claws were wet with blood, his frame towering like a mountain of rage and ruin, yet his eyes—when they finally rested on Bryan and Bruno, they softened. For the first time, he did not look like the monster whispered of in villages, nor the beast feared by nations. He looked more like a father. And he smiled. Not the cruel sneer of a predator, but something almost tender, dangerous in its strangeness. The expression carved into Bryan’s heart like a blade. “My sons,” Amark rumbled, his voice heavy with centuries of power yet touched with warmth. “My blood stands before me. Strong. Alive. You are mine.” Bruno’s breath caught. For a moment, he swore he saw something different in those red eyes—mercy, pride, even love. His sword slipped slightly in his trembling hands. “Bryan… maybe…” But Bryan’s heart boiled.