Shadows Rising
The room plunged into a tense silence as Draven processed Alaric’s grim report. His jaw tightened, his sharp features cast in shadow by the flickering torchlight. “How many?” he demanded, his voice calm but deadly.
“Enough to overwhelm us if we’re not ready,” Alaric replied. His gaze flicked briefly to Isla, who stood rigid beside Draven. “Tobias has brought packs once loyal to the Council into his fold. They’re moving with purpose, and they’re not going to stop until they’ve torn us apart.”
Isla’s silver eyes glinted in the dim light as she placed a hand on Draven’s arm, her touch steady despite the storm inside her. “We can’t wait for them to strike,” she said firmly. “If we let them dictate the battle, we’ll lose before we even begin.”
Draven shook his head, his voice firm as he replied. “That’s what Tobias wants—he’s luring us into a fight on his terms. We hold the ground we know, and we make them bleed for every inch.”
The tension crackled in the air like a live wire. Susan broke the silence, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “And if they break through?” she asked, her tone sharp but grounded in concern.
Draven’s piercing gaze met hers. “Then we don’t let them break through,” he said, his voice like iron. “Not while I’m alive.”
The war room erupted into action as the pack scrambled to prepare for the looming threat. Isla took charge of organizing the younger wolves, her voice firm and unyielding as she directed them to stockpile weapons and fortify the stronghold’s defenses.
Beside her, Jamie worked tirelessly, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere with his characteristic humor. “You know, Isla, I think the entire pack would fall apart without you,” he said with a wry grin.
Isla managed a small smile, but her heart felt weighed down by the enormity of what lay ahead. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” she replied, her voice quiet.
Meanwhile, in the Obsidian Howl stronghold, Tobias stood in his war room, a malicious gleam in his eyes as he traced the map of Crimson Fang’s territory with one finger. “Draven thinks he’s untouchable,” he sneered. “But everyone has a breaking point.”
Seraphine stepped into the room, her crescent mark glowing faintly in the low light. She moved with predatory grace, her voice dripping with mockery. “Draven may be strong, but his Luna is his Achilles’ heel. Break her, and you break him.”
Tobias narrowed his eyes, suspicion flickering across his face. “Careful, Seraphine,” he warned, his voice low. “Don’t forget who leads this army.”
Seraphine smiled sweetly, but her tone carried a razor-sharp edge. “Of course, my Alpha. You.”
Back at Crimson Fang, Isla stood watch on the battlements, her silver hair glinting under the pale moonlight. The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of wolves on the wind. Her heart thudded in her chest, a steady reminder of the battle to come.
Draven joined her, his silent presence a comfort. He rested a hand on her lower back, drawing her close without a word.
“They’re coming,” Isla murmured, her gaze fixed on the horizon.
Draven’s voice was rough with emotion. “I won’t let them hurt you,” he said. “Not you, not the pack, and not our future.”
Isla turned to him, her silver eyes meeting his with quiet determination. “We’re in this together, Draven,” she said softly. “Always.”
