With speed unmatched by those around her, Leila Belkov ran towards a towering brown wolf. Grey met brown as their muzzles clashed, the young werewolf desperately attempting to overpower her enemy.

Her eyes kept darting behind her, frantically searching for the pack warrior she'd lost in the haze of battle, but each time all she could see was wolves clashed in battle, the clearing filled with corpses and blood. She could barely recognize the place of her daughter's birth, and as each body hit the grass, be it wolf or man, she sent a small prayer to the Gods that it wasn't a member of her pack.

The pack house was just beyond the clearing, a breath away from the battle, and all it would take was a single wolf to break through their defences. That was all that kept Leila fighting, the knowledge that, somewhere beyond the treeline, within the mansion she called home, was her daughter.

Leila swiped her paw, clawing at the monstrous wolf's eyes before she went in for the kill, her jaws folding over the tender flesh of her opponents neck. Her teeth dug into his skin, blood spurting from the gaping wound as she ripped out a junk of his neck. That was all it took for the male to howl in pain, his resolve sinking as he staggered back, allowing Leila to leap onto his back.

It took moments for her to tear him apart, claws digging into fur and teeth sinking into flesh as she ensured he would not see another day.

None of them deserved to.

She was allowed no time for celebration, because just as she turned to face the battlefield again, another wolf tackled her.

This one was smaller than the previous one, his coat as white as snow, starkly contrasting the blood splatters all over his body. All she could see as he positioned himself above her, pinning her to the muddy ground, was his ice-like blue eyes.

Emotionless.

Leila had spent the past two days defending her pack, desperate to protect her only child, and for two days she had to watch the bastards kill member after member of her pack—her family—and yet, none of them harboured an ounce of remorse.

Growling, Leila lifted her back paws, placing them on his underbelly before shoving the wolf off her. He stumbled, allowing her to return to her feet.

"Mom!"

The grey wolf turned, horror clouding her mind as she spotted the tall girl in the middle of the battlefield. Her ivory skin contrasted with the midnight locks of hair that fell, almost like a waterfall, around her face, framing her high cheekbones and beautiful green eyes perfectly. Even with the distance between them, Leila could still see every freckle, scar and beauty spot on her daughter's skin, a trait her werewolf half granted her.

Even if she was blind, Leila had no doubt that her memory would forever have her daughter's beautiful face etched within its every twist and turn. Nothing, not even death, could render her mind blank, not when her beloved Yuliana was such a bright array of colours, always painting her mind like an artist does a canvas.

The brief distraction was all Leila's opponent needed, and before she could defend herself, he crashed into her, nipping at her neck with the same desperation she had with his companion.

She had no time to recover, all she could do was move as quickly as she could, dodging his bites—each time narrowly avoiding his sharp canines—with absolutely no chance of attacking in return.

Her gaze moved around frantically, willing one of her pack mates to notice her daughter, to protect her, and each time she came up empty handed. By the time the white wolf pinned her to the ground, she could see her daughter clash with an enemy wolf, her human form dwarfed by the giant black mutt stood before her.

It didn't matter that Yuliana had combat training, nor did it matter that she could—and probably would—win the fight, all that mattered to Leila was that Yulia wasn't just a child. She was her child. And danger wasn't something she ever wanted Yuliana to be involved with.

She already failed her daughter once, a second time would destroy her.

So Leila bared her canines, allowing the white wolf room to latch onto her neck before she plunged her own teeth into his soft flesh. She bit down until she felt his body go limp, sacrificing the blood that poured from the wound he was tearing open in order to ensure his death. Her limbs felt weak as she stumbled towards where she last saw her daughter, a certain numbness racking through her body.

The adrenaline was wearing off, and she knew that, when it did completely, the pain would be excruciating. Not to mention her blood loss.

Her daughter needed to be safe before any of that mattered.

And as she lifted her head, her vision blurred, Leila Belkov realized something that terrified her to the very bone.

Yuliana was gone.