Chapter 2 - The Breach of the Warrenhold Gates
Chaos erupted through the sprawling corridors of the Warrenhold manor as heavy boots thundered up the grand staircase. The Shadow-Fang enforcers had arrived ahead of schedule, led by Baron Vane, a brutal brute known for tearing rival pack leaders limb from limb. Their goal was simple: assassinate the rabbit-clan heiress, seize the estate, and crush any remaining resistance in the Northern territories.
Lyra grabbed a heavy silver dagger from the mantelpiece, her hands trembling as she positioned herself in front of the bedroom door. "They're here. Vane’s wolves have bypassed the guard detail."
Rourke didn't panic. Instead, a chilling, predatory calm washed over him. He stepped in front of Lyra, pulling off his worn leather jacket to reveal a lean, muscular frame covered in faint, ancient scars.
"Stay behind me," Rourke commanded quietly.
The bedroom door exploded inward in a shower of splintered oak and iron hinges. Three massive shadow-wolves lunged into the room, their jaws dripping with saliva, yellow eyes locked entirely on Lyra.
In a blur of motion that defied human sight, Rourke moved. He didn't use a sword or a gun; he used raw, ancestral fury. He intercepted the lead beast mid-air, slamming it down onto the marble floor with bone-crushing force. The sheer impact echoed through the chamber. With a swift, savage strike, Rourke dispatched the attacker before turning his unblinking, lethal gaze onto the remaining two intruders.
Baron Vane himself stepped through the broken doorway, a sickening grin stretching across his scarred muzzle. He sneered, looking down at Rourke with utter contempt. "Well, well. Look what the stray dogs dragged in. An orphan trying to play hero for a rabbit? You're dead meat, boy."
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Rourke didn't flinch. He wiped a streak of blood from his cheek, a dark, dangerous smile touching his lips. "You think you're the first predator who underestimated me, Vane? You're about to find out why ghosts always come back to collect."
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