Isla’s Resolve
The morning light poured through the high windows of the packhouse’s grand hall as wolves from every corner of Crimson Fang gathered for the meeting. Isla stood at the center, her silver hair tied back, baring her sharp, determined features. She moved with a confidence that commanded attention, her hand resting lightly on the curve of her abdomen.
Draven shadowed her steps, his expression as hard as stone. “You don’t need to do this, Isla,” he muttered, his voice low but fierce. “Not after last night.”
Isla turned to him, her silver eyes flashing. “I have to,” she said firmly. “If I stay hidden, they win. I won’t let them control me—or our family.”
Her tone left no room for argument. Draven inhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. “You’re impossible,” he growled, though his lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile.
As the pack filled the room, murmurs spread like wildfire. Warriors whispered anxiously, while scouts traded theories on the culprit’s identity. Isla took her place at the front, lifting a hand to silence the noise.
“My family was targeted last night,” Isla began, her voice ringing out clear and steady. “Someone thought they could strike at me through fear, but let me be very clear: fear has no place here.”
Draven watched her, a surge of pride momentarily eclipsing his worry. Susan, standing beside him, nudged his arm. “She’s too good for any of us,” she whispered with a smirk.
Draven shot her a sidelong glance, his tone gruff. “Welcome to love, Beta.”
Isla’s voice sharpened, cutting through the murmurs. “No matter who you are, if you threaten my family, I will find you. And you will answer for it.” Her words hung in the air like a blade, her silver eyes sweeping over the crowd.
As she stepped down, the wolves erupted into howls of agreement. Draven moved to her side, wrapping a hand protectively around her waist. “You’re playing with fire,” he said quietly.
Isla tilted her head, her smile fierce. “Good. Let them burn.”
