Failed Plan

Derek stood on the battlefield, his chest heaving up and down with each labored breath. The wound on his chest continued to bleed profusely, the crimson liquid staining his once-pristine white shirt. He clenched his jaw in pain, his werewolf healing abilities were greatly suppressed by the vampiric aura lingering within them. The attacks of the werewolf had been devastating, and just as a vampire's assault was lethal to a werewolf, the inverse was equally true.

Beside him, Mozan lay unconscious, his usually regal and imposing form reduced to vulnerability. Derek's intentions for this leader ran deep, and he couldn't allow himself to falter, despite the pain gnawing at him. He knew he had to keep Mozan away from the reach of his vampire comrades at all costs.