Shattered Resolve
The silence following Kaelen and Eira’s escape was suffocating. The once-vibrant energy of the room—the clash of power, the chaos of battle—had dissipated, leaving behind an oppressive stillness. Shattered furniture and scorch marks from the magic wielded in the fight scarred the walls. The air was thick with the acrid tang of burnt wood and the faint metallic scent of blood.
Isla stood frozen, her silver eyes fixed on the empty space where the portal had been. Her chest heaved with uneven breaths, and her legs trembled beneath her as the enormity of what had happened began to sink in. “They’re gone,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “They took everything.”
Her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground, her hands clutching the floor as though it could steady the storm inside her. The realization clawed at her, relentless and cruel: her father and Eira had escaped, and with them, the last thread connecting her to her stolen children.
Draven was beside her in an instant. His claws, still extended from the fight, retracted as he knelt down and gripped her shoulders. “Look at me,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “Isla, look at me.”
She raised her head, tears streaking her pale face. “I failed them,” she choked out, her voice trembling. “I couldn’t stop them. Draven… I couldn’t—”
“No,” he cut her off, his amber eyes blazing with fierce determination. “This isn’t on you. They ran because they knew they couldn’t win. You scared them, Isla. That’s not failure. That’s power.”
Isla shook her head, her silver hair falling in disarray around her face. “They have my children, Draven. My babies… and I let them go.”
Draven’s grip on her shoulders tightened, his fingers firm but grounding. “You didn’t let them go. They ran because they’re cowards. And we will find them.” He leaned closer, his voice a growl edged with a promise. “No matter where they’ve gone, no matter how far they try to hide—we’ll bring them back. I swear it.”
The conviction in his voice steadied Isla, pulling her back from the edge of despair. She sat up straighter, though her body still trembled from exhaustion and grief. Her silver eyes burned with a mix of anguish and resolve. “They’ll regret ever taking them,” she whispered, her voice raw but resolute.
Draven helped her to her feet, his hands lingering at her sides as though to anchor her. Around them, the packhouse began to stir. Wolves who had heard the commotion peeked cautiously into the room, their faces a mix of confusion and concern.
Susan was the first to approach, her sharp gaze scanning the wreckage. “What happened?” she asked, her voice low but urgent.
Isla swallowed hard, the words catching in her throat. Draven answered for her, his tone cold and clipped. “Kaelen and Eira. They’ve taken the twins, and they’ve run.”
A murmur of shock rippled through the gathered wolves, their expressions shifting from confusion to anger. Susan’s face hardened, and she stepped forward. “Where do we start?”
Draven turned to Isla, his amber eyes softening slightly. “We rally everyone,” he said. “We don’t stop until we bring them home.”
The weight of his words filled the room, galvanizing those present. Isla nodded slowly, her silver eyes flickering with a rekindled flame. “They think they’ve escaped,” she said, her voice steadier now. “But they’ve underestimated us. That was their first mistake.”
As the wolves dispersed to spread the word, Draven remained at Isla’s side. He placed a hand on her lower back, guiding her gently but firmly toward the war room. “We’ll need a plan,” he said, his tone softening as he glanced at her. “And you need to rest before this fight takes any more out of you.”
Isla hesitated, the weight of her exhaustion pulling at her limbs. But the thought of her children, stolen away by the very people she should have been able to trust, fueled her resolve. “No rest,” she said firmly. “Not until I know where they are.”
