Bella stood in the center of the training field, the moon casting a soft glow over the clearing.
She was alone.
Or at least, she appeared to be.
Because just beyond the treeline, Dante and his warriors waited.
Silent. Hidden. Ready to strike.
Bella exhaled slowly, her pulse steady despite the danger.
She had played this game before.
But this time?
She wasn't the prey.
She was the trap.
The wind shifted.
And then—
She felt him.
A dark, familiar presence lurking just beyond the trees, watching, waiting.
Mikhail.
Bella forced herself to stay still, to ignore the sharp instinct screaming at her to fight, to shift, to run.
She had to wait.
Had to let him get close enough.
Closer.
Closer.
Then—
A low, familiar chuckle echoed through the clearing.
"You're braver than I remember, little wolf."
Bella's muscles coiled with tension.
Because there he was.
Stepping out of the shadows.
Mikhail Reznov.
His gray eyes gleamed with amusement, his lips curled into a mocking smirk.
"No fear this time?" he mused, tilting his head.
Bella's jaw clenched.
"No."
Mikhail chuckled again. "Good. That makes this more fun."
Then—
He lunged.
But Bella?
She was ready.
She dodged at the last second, spinning out of his reach, twisting her body with sharp, practiced precision.
And before he could recover—
She slammed her dagger into his side.
Mikhail let out a snarl of pain, his body jerking back, his gaze flickering with shock.
Bella grinned, baring her teeth.
"Did you really think I'd be that easy to take twice?"
Mikhail let out a low growl, yanking the dagger from his side, blood dripping down his fingers.
"Not bad," he admitted. "But you're still outmatched."
Then—
More figures emerged from the shadows.
Not just Mikhail.
Not just rogues.
White Moon wolves.
Bella's breath caught.
And in that moment, she knew.
The traitor was here.
Dante's pack had been compromised.
And before she could call out a warning—
Someone grabbed her from behind.
A sharp, silver blade pressed against her throat.
"Game over, little wolf."
Bella snarled, struggling against the hold—
But then she heard it.
Dante's roar.
And when she looked up—
She saw him.
Charging toward her like death itself.
And in that moment?
Bella knew one thing.
Mikhail might have set the trap.
But Dante?
Was about to end the fucking game.