A Fractured Alliance
The war room was tense, the air heavy with unspoken grievances and rising tempers. Isla, Draven, Alaric, and the senior warriors of Crimson Fang stood around a table covered in maps and notes, illuminated by flickering candlelight. The wolves were restless, the weight of their missing Alpha pups and the looming threat of Isla’s father and Eira pressing heavily on their shoulders.
“We need to move quickly,” Alaric said, leaning over the table. His golden eyes burned with determination as he gestured to the mountain passes marked in bold ink. “Your father won’t stay in one place for long. He knows we’re searching for him, and his magic gives him a significant advantage. If we don’t act now, we’ll lose any chance of catching him.”
Draven’s amber eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on Alaric. “And how exactly would you know that?” His voice was low, but the barely concealed growl beneath it made the other warriors glance nervously between the two men.
Alaric met Draven’s stare head-on, refusing to flinch. “Because I spent years at his side. I watched him manipulate and outmaneuver everyone in his path. I know how he thinks, how he plans. That insight could save your pups.”
Draven stepped closer, his claws tapping against the edge of the table. “Or it could lead us straight into a trap. You’ve been loyal to him for years. What makes us think you’re not still playing his game?”
The room fell into an uneasy silence. The other warriors exchanged uncertain glances, and Isla’s silver eyes flashed with frustration.
“I’ve already told you,” Alaric said, his voice even but firm. “I walked away from that life. I stayed with him because I didn’t know what else to do—until I met Isla. I saw what he’d taken from her, what he’d destroyed. That’s when I knew I couldn’t be part of it anymore.”
Draven’s growl deepened. “That’s a convenient story, Alaric. But you’ll forgive me if I don’t stake my children’s lives on your sudden change of heart.”
Alaric stepped back from the table, his posture straightening. His golden eyes flicked to Isla. “I don’t expect your forgiveness. Or his,” he said, nodding toward Draven. “But I do expect you to see reason. You’ve felt it, Isla—you know what your father is capable of. And you know I’m right about him.”
Before Draven could respond, Isla slammed her hands down on the table, the sound echoing through the room. “Enough!” she snapped, her voice cutting through the growing tension like a blade.
All eyes turned to her. She stood tall, her silver eyes blazing with fury as she looked between Draven and Alaric.
“This isn’t about you,” she said, her voice steady despite the emotion beneath it. “It’s not about your past or your mistrust. It’s about my children. It’s about finding them before it’s too late. If either of you can’t focus on that, then get out of my way.”
Draven’s jaw tightened, his claws retracting as he stepped back. His amber gaze lingered on Isla, softening slightly. “You’re right,” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less firm. “This is about them.”
Alaric gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable. “I’ll do whatever it takes to help you find them, Isla. You have my word.”
