Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Price of Desperation
The tension in the air was suffocating.
Luther stood in the war room, his fingers digging into the edge of the table as he listened to the scout deliver the news he had been dreading.
“They broke through the southern border just after sundown,” the young warrior reported, his breathing still heavy from his sprint back to the packhouse. “We estimate at least ten of them, moving fast.”
Luther growled low in his throat.
It had only been two days since Charlie sat with Lily, and already, word of her immunity had reached their neighboring packs. Desperation was a dangerous thing, and those who suffered from it were willing to do anything—including tearing through another pack’s borders in the dead of night.
“They’re starving,” the scout continued, his voice dropping slightly. “They’re weak, Alpha, but they’re reckless. Desperate. If they make it here, there’s no telling what they’ll do.”
Luther didn’t need to be told twice.
He straightened to his full height, the room filled with an almost unbearable weight of dominance as he turned toward his men.
“Liam, stay with Charlie.”
Liam’s head snapped up from where he had been silently brooding by the fireplace. His jaw clenched, his stormy blue-gray eyes burning with frustration. “I should be out there with you.”
Luther met his gaze with an unwavering stare. “And if this is a distraction? If they sent a small group in to test our defenses while another sneaks in to take her?”
Liam didn’t argue after that. He only nodded once, his expression grim.
Luther turned back to the room. “Send word to the sentinels—hold their positions. We don’t know if this is a diversion, and I won’t leave our borders vulnerable.”
His wolves nodded, moving quickly to relay his orders.
Luther didn’t waste another second.
He didn’t bother stripping off his clothes—he simply tore through them as he shifted mid-jump, his large black wolf bursting through the doors of the packhouse with a snarl.
Wolves emerged from the darkness, falling into formation beside him as he sprinted toward the south. They moved in unison, their paws barely making a sound against the earth as they raced through the dense trees, the scent of intruders growing stronger with each passing second.
They weren’t far now.
The wind carried the faint scent of unwashed fur and sickness, mingled with the metallic tang of desperation.
‘Donovan,’ Luther called through the pack link, his voice sharp. ‘Take your team left—circle around from behind. Henry, you and your group go right. Cut them off. The rest of you are with me.’
There was no verbal confirmation, just immediate action as wolves broke off, slipping into the shadows without hesitation.
Luther pressed forward.
The sounds of snapping twigs and rustling underbrush reached his ears. The intruders were attempting to move quietly, but they were sloppy. Sloppy and weak.
Luther bared his teeth. Then he let out a mighty howl. The enemy wolves must have realized they had been caught, because their attempted stealth vanished.
A chorus of snarls erupted from the trees, and then—
They charged.
Ten wolves exploded from the brush, their ribs jutting out beneath matted fur, their movements unsteady but still fueled by the reckless determination of the desperate.
Upon seeing Luther and only four wolves beside him, the intruders howled in premature victory, their confidence misplaced.
It was a mistake.
Henry and his group emerged from their left, a wall of fur and teeth cutting off their escape. The intruders hesitated, their momentum faltering. Just as they were about to retreat and head back to the borders Donovan and his team appeared behind them, their sheer numbers dwarfing the enemy’s feeble attempt at an ambush.
A single mournful howl broke the tense silence, and the acrid scent of fear filled the air.
Luther didn’t hesitate. He shifted mid-step, his human form emerging in a powerful display of dominance. He stood tall before them, arms crossed over his broad chest, completely unbothered by his nakedness.
He let the silence stretch. Let them feel the weight of their mistake.
“Why have you trespassed on my land?” His voice was calm. Lethal.
A chorus of whimpers rose from the group, weaker wolves instinctively lowering their heads. But one remained standing. A brown wolf, slightly larger than the rest, stepped forward, its head lifted in defiance.
Luther growled, a deep, rumbling sound that shook the very ground beneath them. The wolf shuddered but didn’t back down.
“SHIFT.” The command was laced with the full power of his Alpha authority, and the result was immediate.
Their bodies trembled, their muscles tightening as they fought against the order, but it was futile. One by one, their forms twisted and cracked, fur receding as they shifted into their human forms.
Luther wasn’t surprised by what he saw.
They were skin and bones, their bodies trembling in the cool night air, their eyes hollow with exhaustion.
Luther studied the one who had stepped forward, a woman with dark hair and even darker eyes. She was just as gaunt as the rest, but her spine remained straight, her expression sharp with distrust.
“We didn’t come here for a fight,” she said, her voice hoarse from dehydration.
Luther arched a brow. “That’s hard to believe, considering you broke through my border in the dead of night.”
She swallowed hard but didn’t look away. “We’re starving,” she admitted, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “Our Alpha is dead. Our pack is crumbling. We had nowhere else to go.”
Luther stared at her for a long moment, then let his gaze sweep over the rest of them.
The desperation was evident. The sickness, the hunger, the quiet resignation in the way they stood, as if already preparing for death.
His wolf growled low in his mind. He didn’t trust them. Couldn’t afford to. But he also couldn’t ignore what was in front of him.
His lips curled in frustration. “You had*somewhere to go,” he said coldly. “You had choices.”
She flinched but stood her ground. “We didn’t think you’d let us in.”
Luther didn’t respond. He turned to Donovan. “Search them for weapons.” The wolves tensed, but none of them protested.
Donovan and Henry’s men moved swiftly, checking every frail body for concealed blades or hidden threats. By the time they were finished, it was clear—these wolves had nothing.
No food.
No supplies.
No weapons.
Just desperation.
Luther exhaled sharply, his hands flexing at his sides. He should send them away. His first instinct was to chase them from his lands, to ensure they never set foot near his pack again.
But his mate—his Luna—would never forgive him if he let innocent wolves die when he could have done something to stop it. And that thought alone made him pause.
After a long moment, he finally spoke.
“Take them to the southern outpost,” he ordered, his voice firm. “Feed them. Give them water. And watch them.” His golden eyes flickered back to the woman. “I will decide what to do with you in the morning.”
Relief flickered in her gaze, but it was wary.
Luther turned on his heel and stalked away, not waiting to see them escorted off.
As he shifted back into his wolf form and sprinted back toward the packhouse, his thoughts were already on Charlie.
She wouldn’t be happy that he had kept her in the dark.
But for now, he needed to keep her safe. Even if it meant making decisions she didn’t understand. Even if it meant keeping her away from wolves like these.
Because Luther had no doubt—this wouldn’t be the last pack that came looking for supplies, or even for her.
And next time, they wouldn’t come empty-handed.
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