Filed to story: The Lycan's Savage Luna (Wren Tristan & Killian) Book PDF Free
He was still… beautiful in a dangerous way.
The kind of beauty that burned.
“Damn,” I muttered before catching myself and jerking my head away, cheeks heating.
“You’re lucky you’re half-dead, or I’d let you bleed out just for being that distracting.”
He stirred then, voice rough and low, laced with dark amusement.
“Is that how you thank your savior, Moonvale princess?”
My heart jumped. He’d recognized me. Of course he had.
“I don’t recall asking for company, let alone a half-dead Alpha,” I snapped, crossing my arms to hide the shiver that ran down my spine. “You’re bleeding all over my forest.”
“Then stop complaining and help me up,” he murmured, eyes flicking open-sharp, black, and full of that same wicked calm I’d seen once before.
I sighed, cursing my conscience, and slung his arm over my shoulder.
Even half-dead, he was heavy-solid muscle and quiet power. The kind of strength that warned you not to test your luck.
Dragging him back to my apartment took everything I had.
By the time I dumped him onto my couch, my arms were shaking.
He let out a low groan, blood streaking his abdomen. I winced despite myself.
“You really don’t want a medic?” I asked.
“No need,” he said, his voice steady despite the pain. “My people will come.”
I eyed him, doubtful. “You sure you’ll still be alive by then?”
He smirked faintly. “What’s wrong, Wren Vale? Worried I’ll haunt your dreams?”
“Worried you’ll die in my living room and ruin the carpet,” I muttered, turning away to grab a towel.
When I came back, his eyes were half-lidded, but he was still awake-still watching me like a predator pretending to sleep.
The sheer calm in his gaze sent a strange chill crawling down my neck.
He was dangerous. I knew it. Every instinct screamed it.
And yet… I didn’t tell him to leave.
I didn’t move when he murmured, “You shouldn’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said softly. “Or someone you should run from but won’t.”
Before I could answer, his hand-cold, blood-stained-brushed against my ankle.
I froze.
The contact jolted through me like lightning. His palm was rough, his fingers long, his scent-dark smoke and steel-wrapping around me until I almost forgot to breathe.
I kicked his hand off, heart pounding. “Don’t touch me.”
His lips curved faintly, a shadow of amusement flickering in his eyes. “Still fierce. Good.”
A knock came at the door before I could reply. Two men entered, his Beta, and a sleepy-looking medic clutching a kit.
The look on their faces when they saw the man half-naked on my floor and my bare ankle stained with his blood was priceless.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke.
Then his assistant cleared his throat. “Uh… sorry, Miss. We’ll just-handle this quickly.”
Their Alpha didn’t even flinch. “She saved my life. Show some respect.”
Their eyes widened. Mine rolled.
“Respect?” I muttered, backing away. “You mean ‘get out of my house before I throw all three of you out.'”
His Beta shot me a terrified look and bowed his head. “Y-Yes, ma’am.”
As they tended to him, I turned toward the window, pretending not to notice the man’s quiet chuckle behind me.
Killian’s POV
Twenty minutes later, I sat half-slouched on Wren’s couch, the scent of herbs, blood, and cooked food mingling in the air.
She was across the room at the small dining table, swinging her bare feet as she ate a bowl of dumplings-content, careless, pretending not to watch me.
But before my men speak, I’d noticed the way she’d quietly put on her earbuds, pretending to scroll through her phone.
She wasn’t ignoring us-she was giving us space, letting me talk to my enforcers without feeling her gaze burn between us.
Smart.
Jackson and Kian worked quietly, disinfecting the claw wounds on my ribs and shoulder. The silence between us was thick, heavy with unspoken things.
When Jackson finally spoke, it was in that low, precise tone he used whenever the topic was blood and betrayal.
“Did you find the traitor, Alpha?”
I flexed my fingers against my thigh, still faintly slick with dried blood. “Yes.”
The name left a bitter taste. “It was Conor. Aligned with Charles again.”
Jackson stiffened. “Shadowbane blood betraying Shadowbane.”
Conor Sanchez-my fourth uncle.
I didn’t need to look at Jackson to know what he was thinking.
Bastien Sanchez-my grandfather, the founding Alpha-had built the Shadowbane Pack from blood and war. He left behind not one heir, not two, but countless.
With his first mate, he sired three sons and a daughter-the eldest uncle Phelan, he fell off a cliff and died in the family struggle in his early years; my father Ulric; my fifth uncle Lyall who betrayed his family for a woman and is now marginalized, and my aunte Accalia.
Then came the rest, the bastards later brought into the family, my fourth uncle Conor, born of a mistress who briefly became Bastien’s favorite.
The unacknowledged offspring scattered beyond the family estate were countless, each carrying fragments of the Shadowbane bloodline.
And when Bastien became old, he left behind something worse than power-he left behind ambition.
A kingdom of wolves that all carried the same hunger, the same bloodlust, the same curse.
My father, Ulric was Bastien’s second son. He ruled briefly before the war crippled him. His wounds took more than his legs-they took his hunger for dominance.
So I learned early that mercy had no place in our blood.
Conor’s branch always dreamed too high. His mother had once been Bastien’s favorite, and because of that, he’d convinced himself the Shadowbane throne should have been his.
And now he’d dared to leak my route to Charles, the rogue Alpha I’d gutted in the East.
“Shall I take care of him?” Jackson asked.
I shook my head. “Not yet. Let him think he’s safe. Pull the rest of his rot into the open. Then-burn them all at once.”
Kian glanced up, his lazy golden eyes glinting with humor. “A clean kill, then. I like it.”
He wrapped the last of the bandages around my chest, then smirked.
“Though I have to say, you’re lucky. The rogues Conor sent were pathetic. Couldn’t even land a proper hit.”
I froze. My head tilted slightly, and both men felt the shift in the air.
“No,” I said quietly.
Kian blinked. “No?”
My gaze flicked toward Wren-still at the table, earbuds in, pretending not to hear us.
My voice dropped lower, darker. “The rogues were strong. Skilled. Conor chose well this time.”
I paused, then let my eyes linger on Wren.
“But there was another. An Alpha she-wolf. She killed them before I did.”
Jackson frowned, uncertain. “An Alpha she-wolf? One of ours?”
I didn’t answer. My gaze lingered on the faint scratch across Wren’s wrist.
“No,” I said finally. “Not one of ours. But stronger.”
The room went still. Kian’s smirk faded.
