Chapter 203
ALPHA JAKE
The air was thick with the weight of what was to come. I stood on the balcony overlooking the training field, the moon hanging above like a silent witness to the storm that was building. Below, warriors moved with deadly precision, the sound of clashing blades and barked orders carrying into the cold night.
The war was coming.
And this time, it was personal.
Arnold had gone too far. Hurting Ayla? Threatening my children—our unborn child? That was a line no man crossed and lived to tell the tale. I gripped the balcony rail, my knuckles white, my jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
Chris approached quietly, his boots crunching softly against the stone. "We're finalizing the supply packs. Rations for two days. Scouts have reported minimal movement in Arnold's camp. Looks like they don't know we're coming."
"Good. We'll strike at 3 a.m. while their wolves sleep."
Chris nodded. "We have our men divided into three squads. The eastern and northern flanks will move in as soon as your signal comes."
"And the tunnels?"
"Hidden. Only a few of the older warriors and the women know of their exact routes. Should anything go wrong, the children and civilians will evacuate without delay."
A comforting thought, but still, unease gnawed at the edges of my heart. My pack—my family—was depending on me.
And Ayla...
Just the thought of her stirred something fierce and protective inside me. Her eyes still haunted me, the fear and pain when she'd been hurt. The doctor said she would heal, but there was no healing for the rage boiling in my veins.
She wanted to fight. Of course she did. Ayla had never been the kind of woman to sit on the sidelines, not even when carrying my child.
And that terrified me.
I found her in our room, her back to me, brushing her long curls as she stared out the window. The moonlight framed her like something out of a dream, soft and wild, her beauty wrapped in fire.
"You're still planning to leave without me," she said without turning.
"Yes."
"Jake."
Her voice was stern, but I could hear the tremor under it. I crossed the room and placed my hands on her shoulders, meeting her eyes in the reflection of the mirror.
"You're pregnant, Ayla."
"I'm also a trained fighter, and your mate. My blood runs through this pack as much as yours does."
"And that blood is growing inside you. If anything were to happen to you..." My voice faltered, and I forced myself to steady it. "This isn't about doubting your strength. It's about protecting it."
She turned in my arms, cupping my face with both hands. "I'm scared too. But I hate being left behind. I want to stand with you."
I kissed her palms, pulling her tightly against me. "You are standing with me. In every decision I make, you're there. In every heartbeat before battle, you're what I hear. But this time... this time you have to stay. For our child. For the pack that needs you whole."
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she nodded slowly. She understood i had to protect her and our future.
"I hate this."
"I know."
We held each other in silence for a long while. The calm before the storm. And then, beneath the watchful eye of the moon, she reached up, her lips brushing mine.
There were no words as I lifted her, carrying her to our bed. Only the quiet rustle of sheets and the thundering of our hearts. Her hands were urgent, her kisses fierce, and I answered with the same fire.
Clothes fell away like the armor we both wore, revealing the truth beneath—skin, sweat, love. She was everything to me. The one thing I could never lose. I memorized her that night. The way her body arched into mine. The way her fingers traced along my spine like she was etching her soul into me. The sound of her gasps, her whispered name on my lips. The tremble of her legs as I brought her over the edge again and again.
"Promise me," she whispered afterward, tangled in sheets and my arms. "Promise me you'll come back."
I kissed her temple. "Nothing in this world or the next could keep me from you."
She fell asleep against me, and I lay there, watching the moon move across the sky. The hour of war drew near.
When I rose at 2:30 a.m., the house was silent. Ayla stirred briefly, but I pressed a kiss to her brow and tucked the blanket around her.
Outside, warriors stood ready in the pale moonlight. Chris handed me my blade, the silver edge gleaming.
"Are we ready?" I asked, my voice low.
"As ready as we'll ever be."
I turned to the gathered men and women, letting my gaze sweep over them. These were my people. My family. And I would bleed for them if I had to.
"Today," I began, voice rising, "we strike not just for vengeance, but for justice. For every wound Arnold caused, for every threat to our children, for every tear shed in fear—he will answer."
The growl that followed was like thunder, fierce and united.
We set out at 3 a.m., the forest cloaking our movements in darkness. The scent of pine and damp earth clung to the air. Each step was calculated, each breath measured.
Arnold's camp came into view just as the first hints of dawn kissed the horizon. Torches flickered in the distance, unaware of the storm about to hit.
"Positions," I ordered.
The pack split silently, surrounding the perimeter. My heart beat steady as I waited for the right moment.
Then—
I howled.
The battle cry ripped through the air, and chaos exploded around us. Wolves leapt from shadows, blades clashed, and screams rang into the stillness of morning.
But this time, we were not the prey.
We were the reckoning.
And I would make damn sure Arnold felt every second of it.
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