Chapter 200
There’s a silence before violence. I’ve felt it before—like the forest holding its breath, like the moon forgetting to rise.
That’s what it felt like the moment before Arnold struck.
I was in the training yard, barefoot, heart still pounding from the drills Jake had us run that morning. The sun was dipping low, bleeding pink across the sky. Jake stood at the far end, speaking with Sophie. His body was tense even in stillness. I remember thinking how beautiful he looked with the wind in his hair, how safe he made this place feel.
Then came the sound. A crack in the air—sharp, unnatural. Like the world tearing open.
I turned, instinct flaring.
And the sky exploded.
Boom.
Flames erupted from the southern gate. A thick cloud of black smoke swallowed the horizon, swallowing trees, devouring the fence line. I couldn’t even scream. My breath caught as the scent of burning fur and metal slammed into my lungs.
“INCOMING!” someone shouted. “WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!”
Everything after that moved too fast. Warriors shifted mid-air, the sound of bones breaking and snapping into wolf form all around me. Jake was already moving, shouting commands, eyes glowing gold.
“GET THE WOMEN AND CHILDREN TO THE CELLARS!” he bellowed. “FALL INTO FORMATION—NOW!”
Sophie shifted beside him, her snow-white wolf charging toward the smoke.
But I didn’t run. I turned and sprinted toward the flames.
Why?
Because I could feel something calling me through that smoke. A presence. Dark and familiar. Like old blood on my hands. And then—he stepped through the flames.
Arnold.
The man I’d only seen through Jake’s fury and Chris’s surveillance feeds was now standing five feet in front of me.
He wasn’t what I expected.
He wasn’t a beast.
He looked human. Dressed in dark leather, a smug expression carved into his face like marble. His eyes weren’t mad—they were calculating.
“You must be Ayla,” he said, voice cold as winter’s breath.
I froze, my fists clenched at my sides. “Get off our land.”
He smiled, unfazed. “You’re prettier than they said. I see why he chose you.”
Behind me, Jake roared—a sound so guttural, the earth beneath me seemed to shift. But Arnold didn’t move.
“You shouldn’t have touched my outpost,” he said. “You wanted my attention? You have it now.”
And then he did something I didn’t expect.
He raised his hand—just one motion—and five rogues materialized from the smoke like ghosts. They were fast, almost invisible in the haze. I turned to fight, but I was a step too late.
**Claws. Teeth. Screams.**
Something sharp sliced across my back. Pain bloomed instantly, fiery and unforgiving. I dropped to my knees, gasping.
Blood soaked through my shirt.
Jake shifted mid-air, landing in his wolf form just feet away. His massive black wolf barreled into the rogues with savage fury, snapping necks, tearing through flesh. But it was chaos. I couldn’t tell who was alive or dead. I couldn’t breathe.
I staggered to my feet, only to feel a punch of pain in my stomach—deep, sharp, wrong.
I fell again.
Jake shifted back in an instant, cradling me in his arms, his voice breaking. “AYLA. Stay with me. Look at me—look at me.”
“I… I think I’m bleeding,” I whispered.
He pressed his hand to my stomach, eyes going wide. “You’re hurt.”
His voice cracked.
“I’ll be fine,” I whispered, barely believing it myself.
He lifted me with ease, turning toward the packhouse. “GET THE DOCTOR. MOVE. MOVE!”
Everything blurred. My limbs felt heavy. Voices became muffled echoes. I could hear my own heart—slowing, struggling.
Jake held me tighter. “Don’t you dare, Ayla. Don’t you fucking dare leave me.”
Pack Clinic – Minutes Later
The room was white. Sterile. Bright.
I squinted against the light as the pain throbbed. The doctor—an older woman with steady hands and kind eyes—pushed Jake out of the way.
“Lay her down. NOW.”
I was stripped, blood cleaned, bandages pressed into my back. A strange machine was wheeled in—something I didn’t recognize.
Jake stood near the wall, shaking. Sophie held his shoulder, whispering something I couldn’t hear.
“Internal bleeding,” the doctor muttered. “We need to check—” She paused, frowned, then looked at me sharply. “Ayla… when was your last cycle?”
I blinked, confused. “I—I don’t know. A month? Maybe more.”
She glanced at Jake, then back at me.
“I need to run a scan. Hold still.”
A cold wand pressed to my stomach, and suddenly, the room fell *completely silent.*
Then came a sound.
Soft.
Rhythmic.
A flutter, like a tiny heartbeat echoing in a cave.
Jake stepped forward, his eyes wide. “Is that…?”
The doctor smiled faintly. “That’s a heartbeat.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“No,” I breathed. “It can’t be.”
But it was.
“Congratulations,” she said gently. “You’re pregnant. About six weeks.”
Jake dropped into the nearest chair, completely speechless.
I stared at the ceiling, the tears spilling freely now.
A child.
Our child.
Inside me.
Even as my body screamed in pain, something fierce bloomed in my chest. A kind of wild, primal love I didn’t know I was capable of.
Jake finally found his voice. “She’s pregnant,” he whispered. “She’s… we’re…”
The doctor touched my hand. “You’re stable. The bleeding’s not from the pregnancy. It’s from the lacerations. But we need to be careful. You’ll need full rest, limited stress, no fights. Understood?”
I nodded numbly.
Jake turned toward her. “She won’t lift a finger. I swear it.”
But even as he said it, I saw the guilt in his eyes. The horror.
He blamed himself.
Hours Later – Our Room
I lay in bed, surrounded by soft blankets, the scent of lavender lingering in the air.
Jake sat beside me, one hand tangled in my hair, the other resting on my belly. He hadn’t said a word in over an hour.
“I’m okay,” I whispered.
“No, you’re not,” he said. “You were almost killed. And our child—” His voice broke.
“But we weren’t.” I turned to him, cupping his jaw. “Jake. We’re alive. That has to mean something.”
He kissed my hand, eyes fierce. “I will kill him. I swear to the moon, Ayla. I’ll end this. No more warnings. No more games.”
“You’re not alone in this,” I whispered.
He placed his palm gently over my stomach. “I know. But I have more to fight for now.”
A single tear slid down his cheek. I wiped it away.
That night, as I drifted into sleep in his arms, I knew the war had changed.
This wasn’t just about land, territory, or power.
This was about family.
And Arnold had just declared war on ours.
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