The pack didn’t sound right. And it didn’t look right, either.

  Brennar had found me at the edge of the woods, where Riven had told me to wait until the all-clear. He hadn’t said much, just a quiet, “It’s safe enough now. Come on.”

  Now, walking beside him toward the center of the pack, the world felt… wrong. The usual hum of life, the low laughter, the bickering over chores, the thud of paws on packed dirt, had vanished. In its place: silence, heavy and raw.

  Smoke clung to the air, sharp and acrid, the bitter reminder of what the night had taken. The clearing was littered with broken things, splintered wood, trampled earth, streaks of dark blood marking the ground. A cabin near the edge still smoldered faintly, its walls blackened and half-collapsed. Wolves moved through the wreckage with grim purpose, some limping, others carrying the injured on makeshift stretchers. A few stood still, staring at what used to be theirs, hollow-eyed and silent.

  My chest ached at the sight. The devastation didn’t feel real until then.

  Fluffy pressed against my leg as we passed the burned cabin, his thick fur brushing against me, steady and grounding. He didn’t look away from the destruction, but his shoulder stayed firm against mine like he could keep me upright by force alone. Bagel crouched tight on my shoulder, her tail flicking in small, anxious jerks that betrayed her nerves.

  My pulse was too loud in my ears, my breath catching on the smoke. Each step toward the center felt heavier. I didn’t know what I expected to find there, just that whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good.

  “Come on,” Brennar said quietly, steering me toward the cabin that served as the infirmary. His hand brushed my shoulder, not pushing, just steady. “Rowan’s in here. They said that he will be fine.”

  The words should have eased something in me. They didn’t.

  The infirmary smelled like blood and smoke and antiseptic. The air was thick with low voices, the rustle of cloth, the soft, pained sounds of wolves being tended to. Rowan sat propped against one of the low cots, with a bandage that still bloomed faint red at the edge wrapped around his chest and head. His dark hair was damp with sweat, but when he saw us, he managed a crooked grin.

  “Don’t look so grim,” he rasped, voice rough but steady. “You’d think I’d lost a limb.”

  Relief crashed through me so fast it left me dizzy. “You scared me,” I said, quieter than I meant to.

  He huffed a small laugh that turned into a wince. “Scared myself a little too.”

  Brennar knelt beside him, checking the bandage with careful fingers. “You shouldn’t be up at all.”

  “Can’t stand lying still when everyone else is bleeding,” Rowan muttered, but he didn’t fight when Brennar pressed him gently back against the cot. The look that passed between them, brief, wordless, was heavy enough that I turned away, pretending to study the room.

  Brennar glanced at me, his expression firm but gentle. “I think it’s time for you to return to your mates,” he said.

  I hesitated, my stomach twisting. “I don’t… I don’t have mates,” I whispered.

  Brennar’s eyes softened, but he didn’t argue. “Then let me find the closest thing you’ve got. Trust me,” he said, brushing a reassuring hand along my shoulder. I allowed him to lead me out, Bagel chirping softly on my shoulder and Fluffy pressing against my leg, grounding me.

  We paused briefly at the infirmary doorway. I looked back at Rowan. His dark eyes met mine, and he offered a small, tired smile. I pressed a hand lightly against his arm, silent, before Brennar steered me forward.

  Through the doorway, I caught a glimpse of movement, Riven, his coat streaked with soot, a thin line of dried blood tracing the sharp cut of his jaw. His pale eyes swept the perimeter, distant and calculating, and even from here, I felt the chill of it.

  Outside, Thorne stood at the center of the clearing, giving quiet, clipped orders to the few wolves still upright enough to carry them out. His voice was steady, but there was a tension in his shoulders I hadn’t seen before, like someone had wound him too tight and he hadn’t noticed until the threads started to fray.

  Brennar guided me to a few paces short of Thorne, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. “I’m going back to Rowan,” he said, his voice low but certain. “You’ll be safe here with him.” With a final squeeze, he turned and disappeared toward the infirmary.

  I stopped a few paces short of him, unsure what to do, unsure if stepping closer would help or just be another burden. Bagel gave a sharp chirp, and that tiny sound was enough to pull Thorne’s gaze to me. His eyes softened for just a fraction of a second, so quickly I almost doubted it, then the mask slipped back into place.

  Thorne’s voice was low but steady. “Glad you’re safe,” he said, just above a murmur, and I caught the faintest edge of relief beneath his usual control. He gave a small nod, almost imperceptible, then returned his attention to the pack, but his presence lingered with me, grounding.

  A few moments later, Grabber emerged from the shadows of the nearby cabins, his heavy steps quiet but deliberate. He reached my side, hand settling at the small of my back. “Stay close,” he murmured, voice rough and low, leaving no room for argument. “Not far from me. Not tonight.”

  I didn’t argue.

  The hours after that blurred together. Wolves moved around me, their voices quiet and sharp, their movements purposeful. Brennar tended to the injured with a precision that was almost clinical, his calm never faltering even when blood slicked his hands. He moved with quiet authority, giving sharp instructions to anyone nearby, keeping the wounded stable while the rest of the pack followed his lead. Riven drifted through the clearing like a shadow, silent but ever present, his sharp gaze cutting to every sound, every shift in movement.

  Thorne came and went, always moving, always watching, his attention skimming over me each time before locking back onto the chaos he was trying to hold together. The weight of it sat heavy on his shoulders, but he never let it show, not where anyone could see.

  By the time the injured were stable and the clearing began to empty, exhaustion had settled deep into my bones. My muscles trembled with every step as I followed Grabber inside our cabin, Fluffy pressing close enough that I nearly tripped over him at the threshold.

  “Sit,” Rowan said when his eyes landed on me. His voice was quiet but firm, the kind that made obedience instinctive. “You look like you’re going to fall over.”

  I sat. Bagel hopped from my shoulder to my lap and curled up with a huff, as if she agreed.

  Thorne appeared in front of me not long after, tall enough to cast a shadow over where I sat. “You need to eat,” he said, his voice low, hoarse from shouting over the chaos.

  “I’m not hungry,” I started, but Bagel flicked her tail sharply against my stomach, like she’d decided to side with him.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Thorne said, and there was no room for argument in his tone. “Eat anyway.”

  Somewhere between the heaviness in his eyes and the tightness in his voice, my protest died before it even reached my mouth.

  Grabber knelt in front of me later, hands gentle as they tilted my arm into the light. “You were bleeding,” he said, voice rough but steady.

  “It’s nothing.” I tried to pull back, but his grip tightened just enough to stop me, careful not to hurt, but immovable.

  “It’s not nothing,” he said, eyes flicking up to mine, sharp and intent. He rose for a moment and returned with a small first-aid kit, setting it beside us. He flipped it open and pulled out a clean cloth and antiseptic, his movements precise and efficient. He cleaned the thin scrape on my arm with a care that made my throat ache, wrapping it with quick, sure movements. “Don’t do that again,” he muttered when he was done.

  “Do what?”

  “Walk through a battlefield like you’re untouchable.”

  I swallowed, the retort dying on my tongue, and nodded.

  As night crept in, the house quieted. Riven slipped inside like a whisper, his sharp eyes catching every tremor in my hands, every uneven breath. He didn’t say much, he never did, but when his fingers brushed against mine as he passed, it was enough to steady me. Bagel climbed back onto my shoulder, Fluffy settled at my feet, and I sat there in the heavy quiet, listening to the soft hum of voices fading into the night.

  I didn’t realize I’d drifted until a hand brushed against my shoulder, light as a whisper, pulling me back to the room. Riven had returned, quiet as always, his pale eyes catching the dim firelight as they swept over me.

  “You haven’t slept yet,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

  “I closed my eyes,” I murmured.

  “Closing your eyes isn’t the same as resting.”

  His voice had that low, quiet weight to it, the kind that made me want to believe him even when I didn’t want to admit he was right.

  “I couldn’t,” I admitted. “Every time I closed my eyes, I heard it. The fire. The screaming.”

  For a long moment, Riven said nothing. Then he sank in beside me, his eyes sharp and bright, almost inhuman in the glow of the hearth. “You were strong,” he said, steady, like a statement of fact. “You didn’t run. You didn’t freeze.”

  “I almost froze,” I whispered.

  “But you didn’t.”

  Something in my chest cracked, sharp and hot, and I dropped my gaze to my hands, twisting them together until his fingers slid over mine, stilling them.

  “Don’t let fear take that from you,” Riven said, his voice quiet but edged like steel. “What you did out there, what you’re doing now, it matters. You matter.”

  From the kitchen, Grabber’s heavy footsteps sounded against the floorboards, quiet but purposeful. He appeared in the doorway, eyes scanning me as he approached. “You should rest,” he said, voice low and rough. “I’ll keep watch. Make sure nothing gets to you.”

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  I gave a weak, teasing smile. “Does that include Fluffy and Bagel, or just me?”

  His lips curved into a faint, amused smirk. “Yes. Both of them,” he said, settling beside me, broad shoulders grounding, a quiet reassurance in the dim light.

  “You’re serious about this,” I murmured, letting myself sink a little deeper into the cushions, the weight of exhaustion finally pressing in.

  He crossed the room in a few strides, crouching beside Riven without hesitation, his big hands bracketing my knees as he searched my face. “I’ve got you. You should try to sleep. We’ve got enough to deal with without you falling over tomorrow.”

  I huffed a weak laugh, but it cracked halfway out. “Not sure it works like that.”

  Something shifted in his expression, sharp edges softening just enough that it hurt. “Then let me help,” he said, quiet but sure, as if the words had been sitting on his tongue all night.

  Before I could answer, Thorne stepped through the door, the heavy weight of his presence filling the space. His eyes landed on me first, always on me first, before sweeping over Riven and Grabber. There was a tension in his jaw, a storm brewing just beneath the surface, but when he looked back at me, it eased, just barely.

  Thorne crossed the room, sinking into the chair opposite me with a low groan that spoke of exhaustion he wouldn’t let anyone else see. His gaze swept over me, sharp and assessing, but there was something softer in it too, something I couldn’t quite name.

  “Bagel’s been keeping watch,” I said after a moment, as if that explained everything. Bagel flicked her tail against my cheek as if to say, of course I have.

  “She’s a good little sentinel,” Thorne murmured, his mouth curving faintly before the expression vanished like it had never been there.

  The quiet that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Just heavy, in a way that pressed against my skin but didn’t crush.

  “I thought about running,” I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “When the attack started. I thought… maybe if I ran, I could keep everyone safe. But then…” I swallowed hard, heat burning at the backs of my eyes. “I didn’t want to. Not anymore. This is… this is where I want to be.”

  For a moment, none of them said anything. Then Thorne leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees, his dark eyes steady on mine.

  “Then you stay,” he said simply. “We’ll deal with the rest.”

  Grabber’s hand brushed against mine again, warm and grounding, while Riven’s sharp gaze softened, the edges of something unreadable lingering in his expression.

  And for the first time since everything went to hell, I felt it, that strange, quiet certainty that I wasn’t alone.

  Eventually, Thorne rose, his chair scraping softly across the floor. “Sleep. We’ll be close.”

  I wanted to argue, but the weight of exhaustion dragged me down, my body sinking deeper into the worn cushions. Bagel curled tighter on my shoulder, Fluffy resting his heavy head across my feet like an anchor.

  I was half-asleep by the time the door closed behind them.

  Riven

  I hated waiting.

  The meeting room stank of smoke and iron, and under it all, fear. Wolves lined the walls, some pacing, some silent, all on edge. Blood stained the floorboards in places they hadn’t had time to clean. Outside, I could still hear the night, distant howls, the rustle of trees, the hum of something wrong.

  Brennar was at the center of it all, calm on the surface but tight around the edges, his voice cutting through the noise as he laid out plans with Thorne. Reinforce the perimeter. Rotate patrols. Keep the injured under guard.

  It wasn’t enough.

  I leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, eyes on him. “You’re underestimating them.”

  The room stilled. A couple of younger wolves bristled, their hackles rising, but I didn’t move. I let my words settle like ice.

  Brennar looked at me, sharp and assessing. “Explain.”

  “They didn’t just come to win tonight,” I said, stepping forward, letting the low firelight catch the edge of my shadow. “They came to test us, to see how we’d respond. Now they know how fast we rally, where the weak spots are, who hesitates.”

  A murmur rippled through the room, tension winding tighter.

  “They’ll come again,” I continued, voice soft but cutting. “And next time, they won’t be testing the water. They’ll come to break us.”

  Brennar’s shoulders were drawn tight, his voice sharp as he argued with Riven, tension simmering hot enough to make the wolves along the walls stiffen.

  “You think I don’t see the holes in our defenses?” Brennar snapped. “You think I don’t know how close they got tonight? You don’t get to stand there and -”

  “You’re not acting like you know,” Riven cut in, voice low and edged. “If you were, we wouldn’t be wasting time repeating the same plans that already failed.”

  The air in the room thickened, sharp enough to cut. Thorne’s jaw locked as he stepped between them, ready to bark something sharp, when Soren’s voice slid through the tension, quiet but carrying.

  “Enough,” he said, not loud, but steady. The kind of steady that left no room for argument.

  Both Brennar and Riven froze, the fight hanging in the air between them like static.

  Soren leaned back in his chair, one arm draped casually over his knee, but his eyes were sharp, cutting through them both. “You’re tired. Both of you. Too damn tired to think straight, and it’s showing.” His voice didn’t rise, didn’t need to. “We’re all running on fumes, and you know what that makes us? Useless. To each other. To the pack. To her.”

  The room went still at that.

  “You want to protect her? Protect this place?” Soren’s gaze flicked between them, unflinching. “We need a new plan, and we need it now. Stop letting the exhaustion get to you, and actually think. Eat something, close your eyes for a few minutes, whatever. We need to pull it together, now.”

  Silence stretched, thick and taut, before Brennar blew out a sharp breath and raked a hand through his hair, muttering something under his breath. Riven said nothing, but the edge in his expression dulled by a fraction, shadows settling in his sharp features.

  It was Thorne who finally broke the quiet, his voice low but certain. “He’s right. Now, let’s start brainstorming a new plan, rather than just relying on the usual defensive tactics.”

  Liora

  I woke up with a start, unsure of what had pulled me from sleep.

  Bagel was a warm weight curled against my neck, her tiny tail tick-ticking softly against my jaw, and Fluffy’s steady breathing rose from the foot of the bed, deep and even. For a moment, I almost let myself pretend the night before hadn’t happened, that I hadn’t tasted smoke in my lungs or felt the ground shake with the pack’s fury. That I hadn’t seen flames licking at the edges of everything I’d started to think of as home.

  The quiet of the night didn’t feel peace now - too much had happened, and too much was at stake.

  I blinked into the dim bedroom, rubbing the heel of my hand over my eyes until the blurry outlines sharpened. Nothing looked out of place. The small table by the wall still held the empty mug I’d forgotten to wash earlier, my jacket still draped across the back of the chair. The soft golden glow of the banked fire in the hearth painted shifting patterns across the floor.

  Still, my chest stayed tight.

  I turned my head, straining for the sound of voices of the room, for the comforting murmur of the men talking, but there was nothing. No footsteps, no low laughter, no deep, steady voices threading through the night.

  They should’ve been back by now.

  Bagel stirred as I slid carefully from the bed, her claws pressing into the fabric of my shirt before she went limp again, purring like she didn’t feel the same unease I did. Fluffy shifted but didn’t wake, just let out a soft huff and twitched one ear as I padded barefoot across the room into the living room.

  The floor was cool under my feet, the faint grit of wood ash catching against my toes as I crossed to the small kitchenette. Maybe I just needed water.. I reached for one of the mismatched glasses left by the sink, filling it slowly from the pitcher Riven had left that afternoon.

  The sound of the water pouring was loud in the quiet, sharp enough to make me flinch.

  I told myself I was being ridiculous. That they’d be back any minute. That this was just the edge of my nerves, frayed from too many nights without sleep.

  But when I turned, glass in hand, Bagel was no longer asleep on the bed.

  She was upright, every line of her tiny body coiled tight, pupils blown wide as she fixed her unblinking stare on the door.

  And Fluffy, Fluffy wasn’t at the foot of the bed anymore.

  He was standing now, stiff and silent, his massive frame filling the narrow space between the bed and the door, hackles bristling like the edge of a blade.

  I froze, my throat tight, the glass trembling slightly in my hand.

  “…Fluffy?” My voice cracked on the name, too soft, too thin.

  He didn’t look at me. Didn’t move. Just kept that impossible stillness, staring at the door like it was something alive, something wrong.

  Then,

  A sound.

  Soft. Deliberate. A slow, careful turn of the lock.

  Click.

  The sound was quiet, almost polite, but it sent ice knifing through my veins.

  “Riven?” My whisper scraped raw against the air, swallowed whole by the stillness pressing in around me.

  No answer. Not from the doorway. Not from the shadows gathering in the corners.

  The handle turned.

  And before I could take a step, before I could even breathe, the door burst inward.

  The crash of the door slamming open was deafening.

  I stumbled back, the glass slipping from my fingers and shattering against the floor. Bagel screeched, claws digging into my shoulder as she launched herself higher, tail puffed, a streak of fury and fear.

  Fluffy beat her there though.

  One moment he was still, a statue in the dim light, and the next he was pure motion, low and fast, teeth flashing as he lunged toward the shadowed figures spilling through the doorway. His growl ripped through the cabin, deep and violent enough to shake my bones.

  “Get her!” A voice snarled, sharp and cold.

  Hands closed around my arms before I could react, rough and unyielding.

  “No, no, let me go!” My voice cracked, raw with panic as I twisted, kicked, fought like I’d seen Thorne teach the younger wolves, but they were too strong. Too many.

  Bagel launched at the nearest figure, her tiny body a whirlwind of hissing, clawing fury. Someone cursed, swatting at her as her claws raked across their cheek, but even her wild fight wasn’t enough.

  “Fluffy!” I screamed, and he answered, not with a bark, but with a guttural sound that made the air itself vibrate. He slammed into one of them, teeth sinking deep into fabric and flesh, tearing a scream from the man as he went down hard.

  “Damn dog, leave it, grab her, move!” another voice barked.

  Two of them dragged me toward the door, with another man unable to get off the floor while Fluffy seemed to try to rip his arm off. I dragged my heels into the floorboards, nails catching against the splintered wood of the frame.

  “Stop, please, stop -” My throat burned with the effort, tears stinging my eyes, but they didn’t care. Didn’t even hesitate.

  Fluffy barreled forward again, only to be yanked back by a heavy net someone threw over him, tangling his legs and twisting around his massive frame. He thrashed violently, snarling, but they kept their distance, cursing as they struggled to keep the net in place.

  “No! Don’t hurt him!” My scream cracked, raw and desperate. “Please, don’t -”

  One of the men cursed under his breath. “Fine. Leave the damn dog. Just shut her up before -”

  A hand clamped over my mouth, cutting the sound off sharp, tasting like iron and dirt.

  My body trembled as they hauled me out into the night, the cool air slicing against my bare arms like knives. Fluffy stumbled behind us, still fighting, still growling, but moving because I screamed his name again, begged him not to stop.

  The clearing was empty. Silent - until a sickening crack which cut off Fluffy’s snarl mid-breath. His massive body crumpled against the dirt, a dark shape in the shadows, unnaturally still.

  “No -” The scream tore out of me, muffled and strangled by the hand over my mouth. Tears blurred my vision, panic spiking white-hot as I thrashed harder, trying to twist free. “No, don’t hurt him, don’t, please -”

  “Move,” someone hissed in my ear, low and cold. “Or you’re next.”

  I couldn’t move. My legs locked, every muscle trembling as I stared at Fluffy’s motionless body as one man started to drag Fluffy behind him.

  Where were they? Where was Thorne, or Grabber, or….

  The fingers started to tingle, and warmth spread up my arms.

  “What the hell? Sedate her, now!” One of the men yelled.

  I swung my head back and forth, only for my eyes to be drawn to the fire now spreading, with sparks coming right out of my hands.

  Then, a sharp sting bit into my neck.

  My knees buckled, the world blurring, tilting. I tried to fight it, to stay awake, to hold on, but my limbs went heavy, useless. Bagel’s furious shrieks faded to a distant echo as the trees tilted above me.

  Then the world went dark.

  Authors note

  Thank you for reading! Please vote :) Updates will be posted on Fridays.

  Subscribe to my Patreon to read ahead: