Page 33 of Luna Ascending

I recount Marc's behaviour towards me and I feel embarrassed and humiliated all over again. It's a familiar gut-twisting sensation – it's the way I feel whenever we argue, and whenever we're intimate – degraded, debased, devalued. Now that I'm angry, I see the past few months in an entirely different light.

The arsehole is fucking manipulating me. How the hell did I become this weak excuse of a person? I've been letting him make all my decisions, worrying excessively over what he'll think, how he'll react.

My mind whirs, refusing to settle. Things are not okay. I need an out.

Eventually I give up on trying to sleep, and pad through to the home gym. I try a spot of meditation which finally calms my racing mind. It's probably as good a time as any to practise some magic – I might be slightly more relaxed, but I'm not bloody sleeping tonight.

I'm just moving on to attempting some basic fast-flow when my mobile rings with Liz's theme tune. Without thinking I dive across the apartment, reaching the phone in a blink. Fast-flow achieved I think triumphantly as I answer.

My triumph vanishes rapidly when I hear indecipherable gasping on the line. Liz's voice breaks through intermittently, sounding very alarmed. I make out only a few snippets, before the connection breaks. I'm left standing holding my phone in complete and terrifying silence.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Aaron's POV

The Covenhaveto know exactly what Tavey is. It's the only reason the council can come up with that explains why Tavey was targeted, instead of me. And absolutely none of us can explain the friendly vampire. For a vamp to be in a shifter bar is pretty much unheard of, never mind for one to be helpful.

Rumours are filtering through of other covens across the world kidnapping hybrids. A witch and a pure-bred shifter wouldn't normally reproduce, unless they were fated mates... but a hybrid is a very different story.

The fuckers are running breeding programmes, ensuring shifter healing powers and longevity are passed to the kids of forced witch-hybrid matings, then removing the kids and indoctrinating them. It'll strengthen the Coven's numbers rapidly, within a generation.

There are darker rumours too – torture and experiments gone wrong, hybrids and shifters separated from their wolves in order to control them – heartbreakingly similar to my sister's story.

The council's indecision and inaction under my father's command is frustrating to watch. We're just fucking waiting for the Coven to make the first move. I don't like it – it's unnatural for wolves to be so bloody passive.

When the emergency line rings I'm mid-stride, pacing up and down the library trying to keep my calm. The message is brief - one of our facilities is under attack... it shouldn't be good news but my wolf is positively gleeful at the thought of finally having a purpose.

The council's plan, made hastily last week by Rennard, after the incident with the she-wolf, is put into action; Liz & Tavey will stay out of the fighting. They, and few of the younger members of the pack, will guard the estate.

It's fucking baby-sitting duty, not worthy of a beta, and I know it. But, as much as I despise Rennard, I see the logic. The Coven have a vested interest in Tavey as a hybrid. If they can get their hands on Liz too, they can control him.

Tavey's frustrated, but thankfully doesn't argue. Thank fuck - I don't have time to persuade him. I give him a big slap on the back, turn, and in two quick strides shift. The rest of the pack shift behind me, and we bolt out of the estate towards the attack.

We run hard cross-country – some of the pack, Rennard included, have been trapped in one of our facilities ten kilometres away. When we finally arrive my sides are heaving and my breath's whistling in my chest. Staring around in surprise, I almost forget how out of puff I am. I can't believe I don't know anything about this place – it's like a bloody army compound.

Too much is going on in this pack without my knowledge. Who the hell's been managing this place? My stubbornly peaceful father doesn't seem to fit the bill, unless I've seriously underestimated the old man.

I scope the area quickly - the 6ft high fence is topped with razor wire, cameras peek out from various positions and the main gates are resolutely shut. Muffled shouts carry towards us from inside the compound. Fuck knows how this place was over-run, but we need to break back in, and quickly.

On my command we shift, scale the fence, and throw ourselves towards the building ahead. Bursting inside I'm momentarily blinded by a bright white light. As my eyes adjust I see our kappa and pack members, all in human form, trapped against the back wall. Something's definitely wrong, or they'd have shifted.

In the centre of the room, protected by mercenaries, is fucking Marciel. He's sitting oddly still, with a picture of calm concentration playing over his face. As my wolves engage the fighters I head straight for him – he's casting and I bet he's the reason the others can't shift. If I can take him out, and they can shift, we'll definitely have the upper hand.

As my wolf barrels across the floor, I'm aware of two slim figures dropping in to flank me – my twin cousins, young but already ferocious fighters. They happily help me wreak havoc on the mercenaries. Together we fight through Marciel's inner circle of protection, the twins keeping my way as clear as possible to let me reach him.

My front paws touch down at Marciel's feet just as his eyes fly open. He brings his staff up, but he's too slow – my impact sends us both flying across the room, landing only a few meters from each other. I scramble up and lunge for his neck. In the same instant an explosion shakes the entire building, momentarily blinding me.

My teeth clack shut on empty air and I land awkwardly in the dust where Marciel had been only seconds before. I spin, snarling, expecting him to come at me from behind, but there's nothing. Marciel is gone. Vanished. Growling in frustration I round to help the twins. Fucking sneaky witch.

Without Marciel's magic the whole pack is able to shift, and we quickly turn the fight in our favour. The remaining mercenaries are rapidly subdued and the witches who remain drain their power quickly defending themselves against our superior numbers.

As we get a grip on things, I note with grim pride we've only taken a few casualties, and no fatalities. I feel fucking cheated of the chance to flatten Marciel though. He would have been a valuable prisoner, if my wolf let him live. My nostril's flare at the thought.

Abruptly, the pack's self-congratulations are drowned out by a distressed mind-link from Tavey. He bombards us, with no control over the strength of his message. His wolf is panicking and he's making little sense.

“Help, NOW!”

“What is it Tavey? What's wrong?” I try to reach him down our mind-link, but it feels oddly heavy and difficult to send.

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