Chapter 195
The smoky scent still clung stubbornly to the night air as I stood beside Jake, heart pounding in my chest like a war drum. The east wing looked gutted—blackened beams poking toward the sky like charred ribs, windows shattered from the heat.
I rubbed my arms, not from the cold, but from the unease that curled inside me.
Jake’s hand slipped into mine, grounding me.
"Come," he said quietly. "Let’s see how bad the damage is."
The pack gave us a wide berth as we approached the wreckage. Everyone looked rattled, whispers passing between them like uneasy ghosts. Sophie and Fatima hovered close behind us, their faces pale but determined.
My boots crunched over broken glass and wet ash as I followed Jake into the wreckage. He moved with that lethal grace he always had, surveying everything, missing nothing.
"Be careful," he murmured, glancing back at me.
I nodded, swallowing against the thick smoke in my throat.
Inside, it was worse than I thought. The east wing had been where we kept storage—extra supplies, winter gear, some old pack records.
Now, it was a skeletal ruin.
The walls were half-collapsed, the floor soaked but brittle underfoot.
Jake knelt near what looked like the epicenter of the blaze—a corner where everything had burned hottest. His fingers brushed something blackened and twisted.
"Accelerant," he said grimly. "Someone poured it here."
Fatima let out a low whistle. "So it wasn’t...like...someone knocking over a candle?"
Jake shook his head, his expression like carved stone. "No accident."
A chill slipped down my spine.
Sophie crouched beside him, picking up a fragment of glass. "This looks like it was a bottle," she said, sniffing it carefully. "Still smells like gas."
Molotov cocktail.
The word flashed in my mind, sending a sick wave through me.
Someone had attacked the packhouse. Our home.
Not just an act of vandalism—this was war.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. This wasn’t the time to panic. I was Luna. I had to be strong.
Jake stood, brushing soot off his hands. His eyes were hard now—Alpha hard.
"We'll secure the area," he said. "No one leaves the pack lands without my approval. I want patrols doubled. Tripled if needed."
Sophie and Fatima both nodded immediately.
"What can I do?" I asked, stepping forward.
Jake looked at me, his fierce gaze softening for a heartbeat. He touched my cheek lightly, a caress only I could feel.
"Keep the pack calm," he said. "They'll look to you now, Ayla."
The weight of those words settled on my shoulders, heavy but right.
"I can do that," I said, stronger than I felt.
His smile was brief but proud.
"I know you can, Luna."
We turned back to the main hall where the rest of the pack waited, buzzing with fear and confusion.
Jake’s voice rang out, cutting through the noise.
"The fire is out. No one was hurt," he said, his tone even but commanding. "But this was no accident. Someone tried to harm us tonight."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Jake’s hand found mine again, squeezing it briefly before stepping forward alone.
"Until we find out who is responsible, no one leaves the territory without permission. Patrols will be active around the clock. And your Luna"—he looked back at me, his eyes warm but firm—"will oversee all activities here while I investigate."
I swallowed hard as dozens of eyes swung to me.
Some faces were full of trust and relief.
Others… not so much.
I caught the glint of skepticism in some of the older council members’ eyes. The same ones who had doubted me before.
One in particular—Mr. Granger, a silver-haired man with a permanent frown—stepped forward.
"With respect, Alpha," he said, his voice sharp as broken glass, "shouldn't someone with more... experience oversee matters? Perhaps a senior council member?"
The slight was obvious.
Jake’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t move. He was giving me space.
Letting me handle this.
I took a breath, my heart hammering in my ears.
"I may be new," I said, voice steady, "but I am your Luna. Chosen by the Alpha and accepted by the pack."
I looked around, meeting every gaze I could.
"And I intend to protect this pack as fiercely as he would."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Sophie, bless her wild heart, clapped loudly.
Fatima joined in a second later, and soon enough others did too. The room filled with applause, hesitant at first, then warm.
Mr. Granger didn’t clap.
But he stepped back into the crowd, his face like sour milk.
Jake’s smile was small, but his eyes shone with pride as he met my gaze.
You did good, his expression said.
My chest swelled.
The celebration didn’t resume—the mood was too shaken—but people stayed, milling about, finding comfort in togetherness. The twins came running to me at some point, clutching their drawings.
They offered them to me solemnly, like warriors presenting their shields.
I knelt, hugging them tightly.
"These are perfect," I whispered.
Behind me, Jake and the senior warriors organized shifts and patrols. Sophie and Fatima stuck close, keeping the younger members entertained, passing out mugs of hot cider, spreading laughter where they could.
But despite the warmth of the pack, the celebration was over.
The night was a cold reminder that peace was fragile.
Hours later, the packhouse had quieted. Most had gone home. Only a few warriors remained on guard.
I found Jake in his office, leaning over a map spread across his desk, marking patrol routes.
He looked up when I entered, exhaustion tugging at the corners of his mouth.
I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind, resting my forehead against his back.
He exhaled slowly, his hand covering mine.
"You did good tonight," he said, his voice low and rough. "Better than good."
I squeezed him tighter. "I was terrified," I admitted.
He turned in my arms, cupping my face in both his hands.
"That's what makes it real, Ayla," he said, his thumbs brushing my cheeks. "Courage isn’t the absence of fear. It’s doing the right thing even when you're scared."
I blinked fast, willing the sudden sting in my eyes to go away.
"Besides," he said, dropping his forehead to mine, "you had me wrapped around your finger the minute you stood up to old Granger."
I laughed, the sound shaky but real.
"I love you," I whispered.
His smile was slow, devastating.
"And I love you, my fierce, beautiful Luna."
We stood like that for a long time, wrapped in each other, as the night wore on outside.
But even as warmth bloomed in my chest, a small, cold knot stayed curled deep in my stomach.
Someone had tried to burn down our home.
Someone inside our borders had betrayed us.
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