CHAPTER 226

CHAPTER 226
ALARIC

The door thudded shut behind the last alpha, and the room went still

I stayed right where I was, hands planted on the table, staring down at the crumpled maps and scattered pins like they owed me answers.

They didn’t give me shit.

My wolf was losing his mind.

He clawed at the inside of my skin, howling nonstop—raw, desperate, furious. Shift. Run. Hunt. Find Master. Rip him open. End it.

Never in my life had I felt this useless.

This helpless.

This fucking out of control.

Without thinking, I grabbed the nearest chair—metal frame, solid oak seat—and hurled it across the room. It crashed into the far wall with a splintering crack, legs buckling, backrest snapping clean off.

“Woah, cousin…” Alex said, voice low and careful, hands half-raised like he was approaching a wounded animal.

“You alright?”

“What do you fucking think?” I growled, the sound ripping out of my throat more wolf than man.

I stared down at the map again—really stared—eyes tracing the red pins stabbed into the paper like fresh wounds.

Each one marked a sighting, a kill, a taunt. Northern territories. Border towns. Rogue camps that vanished overnight. Too many pins. Too spread out.

Too fucking meaningless without knowing where the bastard was now.

"I feel fucking useless,” I said, voice low and rough, the words scraping out like gravel over concrete.

“Look at this shit.” I jabbed a finger at the cluster of pins in the north, then swept my hand across the whole damn map.

“Red dots. Black Xs. Lines connecting nothing to nothing. I don’t know where the fuck Master is. I don’t know what hole he’s crawling around in right now. I don’t know if he’s three territories away or three streets over. I don’t know when he’s going to make his move—tonight, tomorrow, next week. Time’s slipping through my fingers like sand, and I’m just… standing here. Planning. Talking. Moving pieces on a board while she’s out there with a target painted on her back. While he’s waiting. Watching. Laughing. And I can’t do a damn thing about it right now except stare at this useless fucking map and hope the pins rearrange themselves into an answer.”

My claws flexed again—

"I keep thinking—what if we’re too late?” I continued, quieter now, the rage giving way to something colder, heavier.

“What if he gets to her before we get to him? What if one wrong step—one second I’m not there—and he takes her? Drains her. Uses her blood to become something we can’t stop. What if I fail her? What if I fail my people. The future. Everything. Because I’m stuck in this room playing war games while he’s out there actually doing shit.”

Dominic pushed off the wall, stepping closer—

“You’re doing exactly what you need to do right now. You’re keeping her safe by not charging in blind. You’re building the trap instead of walking straight into his. That’s not useless. That’s strategy. That’s control. And yeah—it fucking sucks. It feels like shit. I get it. But you’re not alone in this. We’re here. We’re moving. I’m heading out myself tonight to pay a visit to the The Warden of the Shadow Pines.”

He paused, letting the name sink in, eyes locked on mine—no smirk, no bullshit, just cold certainty.

“She’s one of the last living keepers of the old magic,” he continued.

“Ancient. Mean as hell. She’s the only one who can tell us how to create a real shield around Amara—something strong enough to mask her blood signature from Master’s senses, to cloak the pull of the sigil so he can’t track her like a goddamn beacon. Not some half-assed charm or temporary ward that’ll crack under pressure. A proper veil. Deep magic. Old magic. The kind that’ll make her invisible to him until we’re ready to flip the board, turn the tables, and make him come to us on our ground.”

He stepped closer, voice dropping even lower.

“We get to her. We get the shield. We draw him out. And when we do? We end him. Together. No one gets to her. No one touches her. Not on our watch.”

The words landed heavy—solid, real. They didn’t erase the rage or the fear, but they gave it edges I could use.

Direction. Purpose.

I exhaled—long, ragged—the wolf still pacing inside me but no longer trying to tear free. The ringing dulled to a low throb. The crawling eased into something focused. Sharper.

The Warden. The shield. A real way to protect her—not just guards and walls, but something deeper.

Something that might actually work against an ancient like Master.

I exhaled—long, shaky—the claws finally retracting fully, the howling in my head dulling to a low, manageable rumble.

“We won’t let anything happen to her,” Dominic said, no sarcasm, no smirk—just raw promise.

“You hear me? We’re not losing her. We’re not losing you to this either. You’re tearing yourself apart right now, and that’s exactly what he wants. He wants you distracted. Angry. Reckless. Don’t give him that. Save it for when we have him in our sights. Because we will have him. We’ll drag him out of whatever hole he’s hiding in, and when we do, you’ll get first blood. I swear it.”

I exhaled—hard, shaky—claws retracting with a slow scrape against the wood, and nodded.

Ryan’s face flashed in my mind again—clear as day—that smug, half-cocked smirk, the way his eyes had flicked around the room like he was already calculating exits and alliances, the half-hearted “fine, I’m in”

“I don’t trust fucking Ryan either,” I said suddenly, voice rough and low, the words tasting like ash and iron.

“Not even a little. He’ll do anything for power. Anything. Even if it means teaming up with Master. Even if it means selling us out to the bastard who’s been carving up our people for months. If he thinks it’ll give him an edge—over us, over me, over the whole damn balance—he’ll take the deal. He’ll smile while he does it, too. Same way his father smiled when he blocked our trade routes, same way he smiled when he tried to chain my mother to his bed. Ryan’s cut from the same cloth. He’s not loyal. He’s calculating. And right now, he’s looking for the first crack he can slip through.”

The room went quiet for a heartbeat—

Alex was the first to speak, voice low and tight. “I’ve been thinking the same. If Master offers him a better deal… he’ll take it. Without fucking blinking.”

Dominic uncrossed his arms,

"Yeah. Hes a fucking bastard. If Master dangles a throne in front of him—or even just a bigger slice of territory—he’ll bite. And he’ll smile while he does it. Same as his father. Same blood. Same poison.”

I exhaled—slow, steady—claws retracting fully this time.

“Then we treat him like the threat he is,” I said.

“We keep him close. Eyes on him at all times. If he makes one move toward Master—if he even thinks about selling us out—we end him. No trial. No mercy. No second chances. He’s either with us or he’s against us. And I’m done giving people like him the benefit of the doubt.”

Soon Master—and anyone who stood in our way—was about to learn exactly what happened when you came for what was mine.

I closed my eyes.

Forced another breath.

Then I reached for the mind-link—reached for her.

Amara?

A beat of silence—too long—then her voice flooded in, warm, so perfectly her it almost hurt.

'Hey, big bad wolf, she answered, voice in my head soft but laced with that familiar teasing edge.

'You okay? You sound like you’re about to chew through the furniture.'

The knot in my chest loosened—just a fraction.

'Are you okay?'

I asked, hating how rough my mental voice sounded, how desperate it came out even to me.

She laughed—soft, sarcastic, the sound cutting through the static in my head like sunlight through fog.

'Oh, I’m great,' she sent back, voice in my mind dripping with that perfect mix of exasperation and amusement that was so purely her.

'Just living my best life with twenty guards following me everywhere like I’m a celebrity in witness protection.'

Twenty.

Right.

Dominic doubled them after Jesse’s little shoulder-check stunt. I'd personally interrogate her later.

'I can’t even pee without someone checking the stall first. It’s like living in a reality show called “Amara and Her Overprotective Muscle Squad.” Cassie’s one step away from starting a choreographed dance routine just to mess with them. She’s already plotting the choreography—lots of jazz hands and dramatic hair flips. It’s going to be iconic.'

I let out a breath that was half laugh.

The knot in my chest loosened—just a fraction—but it was enough.

'They’re like a walking wall of muscle and bad haircuts. One of them actually offered to hold my coffee while I tied my shoe. I almost cried from the sheer awkwardness.'

I huffed another laugh—quiet, tired, but real.

Alaric? Everything OK?

'Yeah, baby… I sent back, voice in the link softer now, raw around the edges.

'Just fucking missing you.'

The link went warm for a second—like she’d reached through it to brush her fingers against my cheek.

Missing you too. Now go do whatever terrifying thing you’re doing and stop worrying. I’m fine."

'Stay with them I told her again, because I couldn’t not say it.

Don’t ditch the guards. Not even for coffee. Not even for five minutes.'

'Yes, Dad, she shot back instantly, tone teasing but laced with affection.

I’ll be good. Promise. Scout’s honor. Pinky swear. Whatever it takes to get you to breathe. Now go growl at someone who deserves it. I’ve got twenty very serious babysitters and one very angry best friend. We’re basically unstoppable.'

I exhaled again—this one slower, deeper.

Love you.

Love you more.

I rubbed my face with both hands, letting the quiet settle over me for a second.

My wolf settled—just a little—still pacing, still growling, but no longer trying to claw through my skin to get to her.

I straightened.

Time to move.

And Master was going to learn exactly what happened when you came for what was mine.