Maxx’s muscles tensed and rippled. His eyes brightened, shifting to a silvery-gold hue, pupils narrowing to slits. His claws extended halfway, black and curved, while his canines lengthened inside his mouth.

  Valya shifted, her elegant hands transforming into instruments of lethal precision. Her fingers twisted into sharp talons, eyes igniting with an icy blue glow, as her pupils shrank to resemble wolf-like blades. Her tongue flicked across her teeth.

  “How very protective,” she hissed. “If I didn’t know better, Maxx, I’d think you actually—”

  Maxx lunged forward, a blur of black and silver. He slammed into Valya, claws flashing, as the backstreet exploded with the sound of two ancient predators colliding.

  As the fight erupted in front of her, Aya pressed herself against the building.

  Valya’s laughter rang through the alley. “Ah, there you are, Maksimochka! I was hoping you’d greet me properly!”

  The brick wall behind Aya shook from nearby blows. The world before her shrank into a chaotic swirl of claws, fists, snarls, and quick movements. Maxx and Valya clashed in the alley’s center with the force of two meteors.

  Valya moved, swift as a shadow, elegant and exact. Her snowy-white hair with black streaks at the temples fluttered like a living banner. Her body twisted with fluid grace as she attacked. Each move was a seamless blend of artistry and aggression.

  Maxx battled with the force of a fierce storm—determined, quick, and fueled by centuries of combat instinct. His punches echoed through the air, striking the pavement and the metal fire escape above. He acted with purpose, each hit aimed at ending the fight quickly.

  Valya moved with remarkable speed. She parried him turn for turn, her laughter weaving between the strikes like fragmented music.

  “You’re slow now, old wolf,” she taunted, sliding past him and raking her nails across his chest. “Your age is finally showing.”

  Maxx grabbed Valya’s arm and twisted it. She vaulted over him, landing behind him and raking his back with her claws. He roared, turned, seized her waist, and slammed her into the opposite wall.

  “Still strong, Maxx. And still mine.”

  “I was never yours,” he growled.

  Maxx pressed Valya against the brick wall, his forehead touching hers.

  She grinned. “Soon, my wolf, I’ll take everything you love.” In a slow, intimate move of mockery, she seductively licked his cheek.

  Maxx pulled away from the wall, his chest rising and falling, blood trailing down his arm. They clashed once more in a burst of muscle, silver, black, and shadow.

  Aya staggered forward, dizzy but determined. Her legs trembled, yet she pushed on. She felt a powerful urge to defend and shield the one remaining link she had to the world. Mustering what little strength she had left, Aya sprang forward, her sharp claws ready, her eyes glowing like molten gold.

  “No!” Maxx snarled, his voice booming. “Stay back!”

  Valya had noticed her approach. She spun in a graceful pirouette and seized Aya mid-lunge with one hand. The assassin’s grip tightened around her neck, choking her as a predator would restrain wounded prey.

  Aya swung at her with weak yet defiant strikes.

  A grin spread across Valya’s face as she leaned back, amused. “You’re a brave little wolf. Stupid…but brave.”

  Maxx roared and charged at them, but Valya was already in motion. The assassin turned, lifted a leg, and delivered a powerful blow to the young wolf’s chest.

  Aya’s world burst into chaos. Her body shot through the air. With a sickening crunch that vibrated through her body, she slammed into the far brick wall, her skull making contact with the rough brick. Her vision narrowed into a tunnel as she toppled sideways onto the wet pavement. Echoes of snarls, scratching claws, and the crack of fists helped her to focus on the battle as she lay against the wall, watching with half-closed eyes.

  Maxx’s fury exploded. He lunged at Valya, grabbing her by the throat and slamming her to the ground, sending a large plume of dust into the air.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Valya laughed and wiped the blood from her lips. “Still strong,” she whispered. “Still beautiful.”

  Maxx’s hand tightened around her neck. In a single, swift motion, he flipped her over, trapping her arm in a vice-like grip behind her back. His sharp claws extended. He remained poised, his hand raised, prepared to rip the lupine woman’s spine from her body. Before his blow could land, she moved with the fluid grace of a shadow, evading his grasp and settling into a defensive stance.

  “Maxx,” a voice barked as two shadows entered the alley at full sprint.

  Valya’s head snapped toward them.

  “Another time, wolf,” she hissed.

  “Valeska,” Maxx growled, his voice deep enough to shake the walls. “Don’t make me come after you.”

  Her silver hair shimmered in the dim light. She straightened and walked to within an arm’s length.

  “This isn’t over,” she whispered. “You know this. We were always destined to finish something, you and I.”

  The two werewolves moved to stand beside Maxx.

  Valya turned her back on all three, hair gleaming like frost. She walked into the deeper shadows of the alley.

  “You’ll see me soon,” she called over her shoulder. “And next time, choose wisely who you protect.”

  Then she slipped into the darkness, climbed the far wall, and disappeared onto the rooftop.

  Aya lifted her head and offered a faint smile. Her father had defended her, and without his support, she wouldn’t have survived. She rested it against the cold bricks and closed her eyes before surrendering to the darkness.

  ———————————————————————————————————————

  The alley was a mess of shattered pavement, bent metal, and the stinging, metallic smell of blood from both wolf and human. The final sounds of his fight with Valya still hung in the air, resonating through the windows and drainpipes like distant thunder.

  Maxx hunched over, his breathing heavy, one arm braced against the alley wall. Valya’s marks, deep gashes, marred his ribs and shoulder. Her unmistakable scent still hung in the air, fading only because she had fled moments earlier with a mocking kiss of her tongue across his cheek and a whisper of “next time” before she disappeared into the night.

  He wiped the smear away with the back of his hand. The adrenaline faded, and the pain settled in.

  He turned toward the small, crumpled form lying near a dumpster.

  Aiyana.

  His daughter.

  Maxx covered the distance in three long strides and knelt beside her. She was barely breathing; the rise and fall of her chest was shallow from exhaustion and injury. Dark hair obscured her face, tangled with dust and stained with blood. Her wolf's strength flickered beneath her skin, but she was too frail to stand or even to groan.

  He brushed a thumb over the bruise blooming across her cheek.

  “You fought too hard, little wolf,” he murmured. “Well beyond your limit.”

  A pair of footsteps approached from behind. Maxx didn’t need to turn; he recognized the scents right away—Jonas and Mara. Two enforcers, he guessed, sent by the werewolf council to track the rogue scent from the subway incident.

  Jonas, tall and broad-shouldered, was still half-shifting. Mara, lithe and sharp-eyed, stood beside him with her arms tense at her sides, her claws out. They stopped when they saw Aya.

  Mara’s eyes widened. “That’s her. The subway attacker.”

  Jonas took a deep breath, his frown deepening with the air that filled his lungs. “But the scent is… mixed. Wrong. Something’s off.”

  Maxx rose to his feet. “She’s no threat to you now,” Maxx said. “And this fight isn’t yours.”

  Jonas, hesitant, met his gaze. “We aren’t here to cause trouble, Maxx. We just need to report back what we’ve seen.”

  “If you feel it’s necessary, then report the truth,” Maxx said. “But I’m asking you to delay revealing this immediately, just a simple request, nothing more.”

  Mara shot him a harsh look. “You’re asking us to stay silent.”

  “I’m asking you not to speak prematurely,” Maxx corrected. “Not yet. Not about her.”

  Jonas exhaled, the tension easing from his shoulders. “We trust your judgment, Maxx. Always have. If you say hold our tongues, we hold them.”

  Mara nodded. “We’ll stay quiet. For now.”

  Maxx inclined his head once; an alpha’s thank you.

  He returned to Aya and crouched down next to her once more. Carefully, he slid his arms under her slack body. She murmured at his actions, her head instinctively pressing into his chest.

  Maxx paused. That simple gesture—an instinctive, unconscious trust—struck him hard. He drew her into his embrace, lifting her with little effort. She seemed weightless, too slight for her noble background, too delicate for someone meant to move under the moonlight without hesitation.

  Jonas and Mara watched in silence.

  Maxx stood. He looked over at the pair. “I ask for 24 hours before you report to the council. Give me that, and I will be in your debt.”

  They nodded.

  His torn shirt hung in shreds across his torso, arms, legs, back, and chest, cleaved and bloodied. Valya’s last strike left his jaw bruised and a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. But none of it mattered. Not compared to the injured young woman unconscious in his arms. His daughter. His legacy. He turned toward the mouth of the alley.

  “Maxx,” Jonas called. “Where will you take her?”

  “Where she’ll be safe,” he answered. “Where no one can touch her. Not Valya. Not the vampires. Not even the Council.”

  He took a slow breath and looked at both of them. “She’s mine,” he said. “And I will protect her.”

  He moved toward the car parked at the alley's entrance. The Jaguar’s lights blinked as he approached. He nudged the passenger door open with his elbow and carefully settled Aya into the seat, his gaze lingering on her face, illuminated by the dashboard’s soft light.

  Maxx brushed a strand of silver hair from her face.

  “So much hatred,” he whispered. His voice cracked with emotions he never let others hear. “And so much of it because of me.”

  His emotions clashed—regret, wonder, guilt, fierce protectiveness. This was his daughter, his blood. Once lost, then hunted, now wounded. All his fault.

  Maxx closed the door, his hand lingering on the metal for a moment. “Let’s take you home,” he whispered. Then he sat behind the wheel, the engine roaring to life as the night swallowed them whole.