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Amara's heart hammered as she processed the full scope of Tavian's betrayal. Twenty years of patient manipulation, of earning trust while orchestrating destruction from within. "I won't let that happen to Raxen."

Vessa's diplomatic mask shattered completely, replaced by the fierce protectiveness of a lioness whose family was threatened. She strode across the conference room to an ornate cabinet Amara hadn't noticed before, her movements sharp with sudden purpose. The cabinet's lock yielded to Vessa's touch, revealing a sleek weapon that looked both elegant and deadly.

"Alright then," Vessa said, her voice carrying the same commanding authority that ran in the Sol bloodline. "I'm not going to let my brother die tonight either."

She lifted the gun with practiced ease, checking its charge with movements that spoke of extensive training. When she looked up, her blue eyes blazed with determination, transforming her from diplomat to warrior.

"Do you know how to shoot?"

Amara accepted the weapon without hesitation, her fingers finding the grip with muscle memory. "Yes. My brothers made sure I learned."

Thank God for overprotective siblings.

"Good." Vessa's tactical mind was already working. "They'll probably try to corner him in the courtyard—it's the most defensible position but also the most exposed to sniper fire. You watch for elevated positions while I create a distraction."

The plan crystallized between them with the efficiency of two women who understood exactly what they were fighting for. Not just Raxen's life, but the future of everything they'd built—and everything Amara had just discovered she wanted to build with the man who'd claimed her heart in less than three days.

They moved through the estate's corridors with purpose, the alarm's wailing providing cover for their footsteps. Amara's analytical mind cataloged every shadow, every potential hiding spot, and every angle that could conceal an assassin.

If I were planning to kill an Alpha, where would I position myself?

The answer came with chilling clarity as they approached the grand foyer. The estate's architecture offered multiple elevated positions—balconies, upper windows, even the grand staircase itself—that would provide clear sightlines to the courtyard, where Raxen would naturally position himself to coordinate the defense.

"I'm going to shift and draw their attention," Vessa said, her voice steady despite the gravity of their situation. "My lioness will be an obvious target, but harder to hit than you think. While they're focused on me, you find the sniper."

Amara nodded, her throat tight with emotions she didn't have time to process. "Vessa⁠—"

"I know." Vessa's smile echoed her brother's moments of warmth. "He's lucky to have found you. Now let's make sure he lives long enough to appreciate it."

They reached the estate's front doors, and Amara could hear the sounds of battle beyond the grand entrance—roars of shifted lions, the clash of combat, and Raxen's commanding voice cutting through the chaos as he coordinated the defense.

He's alive. I still have time.

Amara gripped the weapon tighter, her professional calm settling over her like armor. She'd spent her career navigating conflicts where lives hung in the balance, but never her own heart.

I'm sorry, Raxen, she thought as she prepared to step into the line of fire. I can't hide anymore. I need to save you—and save the future I want to build with you.

SIXTEEN

RAXEN

The estate's front doors slammed behind Raxen as he burst onto the moonlit grounds, his dress shoes sliding slightly on the stone steps as he pivoted toward the main courtyard. The twin moons cast everything in silver and shadow, transforming the familiar landscape into a battlefield of light and darkness. His lion roared beneath his skin, demanding release, demanding blood for the threat to their territory.

Multiple hostiles breaching the estate. Just like twenty years ago.

The parallel struck him with brutal clarity as he sprinted across the manicured lawn, his tailored suit jacket flapping behind him. His father had been lured into negotiations, distracted by politics and diplomacy, while assassins positioned themselves for the kill. Now here he was, rushing headlong into what could be the exact same trap.

The sounds of combat grew louder as he approached the courtyard—snarls, roars, and the distinctive crack of shifting bones. Through the ornamental hedges, he caught glimpses of massive forms locked in deadly combat, the moonlight gleaming off golden fur and bared fangs.

Jalen's massive tawny lion was already engaged with a rogue near the central fountain, his thick mane bristling as he circled his opponent with calculated precision. The enemy lion was lean, scarred, and moved with the deadly efficiency of a trained killer rather than a desperate scavenger.

These aren't random rogues. They're professionals.

Raxen's analytical mind cataloged the tactical situation even as his protective instincts urged him to shift and join the fight. Three attackers, maybe four, all positioned to create maximum chaos while maintaining escape routes. Someone had planned this assault with military precision.

Raxen started moving, his hands working at his tie and jacket as he prepared to shift, when movement near the estate's side entrance caught his attention. Tavian emerged from the building with measured calm, followed by the four visiting Alphas, Sori, and Leon. Instead of joining the defense or seeking cover, they moved with the unhurried confidence of people who knew exactly where the danger wasn't.

What the hell?