Page 80 of The Blood Moon Hunt

Ronan.

He’s broken off from the group, standing at the edge of the clearing, his posture tense, his eyes fixed on something in the distance. I narrow my gaze, trying to figure out what he’s doing. There’s something... off. He’s up to something.

Then I see it. The shadows. They’re moving again, creeping towards us like a dark tide, and this time, the lesser warlocks are with them. Their wild, feral energy is palpable, surging toward the clearing with a single, terrifying focus.

I spin to face Damian, who has also noticed the shift. His face is pale, his expression a mixture of anger and dread.

"What is Ronan doing?" I demand, my voice low but urgent.

Damian’s jaw tightens. He looks sick, as if the truth is something he’s been dreading all along. "It’s obvious, isn’t it? He’s been speaking with the Order."

"Then stop him!" I hiss. "You’re the facilitator. Can’t you stop this?"

Damian hesitates, his eyes flicking to Ronan and then back to Selene, who is still focused on the altar, oblivious to what’s happening behind her. "I’m... I’m not sure I know how."

"That’s not good enough," I snap, my frustrationboiling over. "We can’t just stand here and let him ruin everything."

But before I can say more, the shadows are upon us, spilling into the clearing like an unstoppable force. They move differently this time, as if something—someone—has given them permission to enter. And I know exactly who’s responsible.

Ronan.

Whatever he’s done, he’s allowed the shadows and the lesser warlocks to breach the clearing’s protective circle. We’re no longer safe.

I step forward, positioning myself between Selene and the advancing darkness, my hand already summoning the magic I’ve been keeping in reserve. Lucien and Damian move in beside me, forming a protective barrier around her as the first of the lesser warlocks breaks through.

There’s no time to think. No time to plan. We’re surrounded.

Ronan watches from the edge of the clearing, his expression unreadable, but there’s a glint in his eyes that I don’t like. He’s done this. He’s betrayed us all, and for what? Power? Favor from the Order?

The shadows surge toward us, faster now, and the ground beneath us seems to tremble as the lesser warlocks charge, their wild, unhinged energy crashing against us like a wave.

"Damian, do something!" I shout, my magic lashing out against the shadows as they press in on all sides.

But Damian’s focus is split. He’s watching Ronan, fury blazing in his eyes, but there’s something else there too—something more complicated. Something that makes him hesitate.

I grit my teeth and unleash another blast of magic, driving back the shadows for a brief moment, but I can feel the strain. We can’t hold them off forever.

"Selene," I call out over my shoulder, my voice sharp. "Whatever you’re going to do, do it now."

She turns to look at me, her eyes wide with uncertainty. "I don’t know if I can?—"

"Youcan," I growl, cutting her off. "You have to."

Lucien is beside me, fighting off a group of lesser warlocks with brutal efficiency, but even he can’t keep them all at bay. The shadows are closing in, and we’re running out of time.

Ronan smirks from the edge of the clearing, his arms crossed as he watches us struggle. He’s enjoying this. He’s enjoying watching us fight for our lives while he stands there, untouched.

I feel a surge of rage, my power flaring in response, but it’s not enough. Not against this. Not against him.

And then, just as all hope seems to slip away, something shifts. The altar beneath Selene’s hands begins to pulse with a strange, otherworldly energy, the inscriptions glowing brighter than before.

The shadows hesitate, as if they can sense the change.

But it’s not enough to stop them. Not yet.

We need more time.

"Selene!" I shout again, my voice hoarse. "Now!"

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