Chapter 87 ASHES AND ABSENCE
DEREK’S POV
Amber’s absence clung to me like smoke I could not shake, thick in my lungs, heavy in my chest, and sharp in every thought. I slept little and ate less, my hands always twitching, my mind always turning to where she might be, who she might be with.
Every sound made me flinch, every shadow made my heart leap, foolish hope flaring before dying again. I told myself she had chosen her path, and I had to accept it, but accepting it did not make the ache any lighter. I still reached for her in the dark, still listened for her voice in the wind, and still imagined her walking back through the gates of home.
That morning, before the sun had fully broken over the hills, a rider arrived, sweat streaming down his face, his horse shaking from exhaustion.
“The beta,” he gasped, almost falling from his saddle.
“Your father’s beta… attacked. Badly.”
I froze, heart hammering. “Where?” My voice was sharp, low, demanding.
“At the southern farms,” the rider said, “he… he’s alive, but barely.”
I did not pause. I mounted my horse, slamming the saddle tight, and rode harder than I had ever ridden before. Anger burned hotter than fear now, pushing me forward, my vision narrowing to the path ahead, the pounding of hooves like the drum of war.
When I arrived, the damage was unmistakable. Doors lay splintered, windows shattered, and the earth itself was stained with blood. Men moved quickly, whispers hanging like smoke in the morning air.
My father stood by the main house, his face pale, his hands stained. “They came in the night,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
“Silent and skilled.”
“Who?” I demanded, scanning the chaos, the bodies, the scorched soil.
“We caught one,” he replied, voice heavy. “Tried to die before we could stop him.”
The prisoner was dragged into the barn, ropes cutting into his wrists. I looked at him and froze. His markings, his stance, everything about him screamed Spirit Pack.
“Spirit Pack,” I muttered.
“Why here? Why now?”
The man spat at my boots. “You’re too late,” he said, voice rough, dripping with mockery.
I grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head back. “You will tell me everything,” I said, voice low, steady, though my chest was shaking. “Or you will wish you had.”
He laughed weakly, a dry, cruel sound, but it broke under my grip. My hands shook with anger, grief, and disbelief.
“Orders and Names. How?” I demanded.
He screamed when my blade nicked his arm, screamed again when my fist struck his ribs. I did not stop. Rage, sorrow, and fear all guided me. Every word I wanted to say to Amber, every question I had held back, poured through my actions. At last, broken, choking on blood and fear, he spoke.
“The Spirit Pack… planned it,” he sobbed. “But… she led us.”
My heart skipped. “Who?” My voice was sharp but hollow.
“Amber,” he whispered. “She… she gave the paths. The timing. She knew every guard, every blind spot… she guided us.”
The world tilted, and I felt my stomach drop to my boots. “Liar,” I said, though the word had no strength.
“She watched,” he cried. “She… she stood there, watched us take him down, guided every step!”
I staggered outside, the cold air hitting me like a fist. Smoke from the burning barn and the distant farms clung to my clothes, sharp and choking. I needed confirmation. Proof. Fauna, the seer, had warned me of things before. If anyone could tell me the truth, she could. I sent for her immediately, dragging her from her quarters when she tried to flee.
“You will speak,” I said, locking her in iron chains. “Now.”
She wept, eyes wide and terrified. “I saw it,” she said softly. “Amber… Amber stands with the Spirit Pack. She chose them. By her will.”
My chest ached, my vision blurred. Amber had not just left. She had turned. She had crossed a line I could not follow, had helped spill blood I swore I would protect. Rage and grief warred in my chest, twisting me tight. The woman I loved…the one I thought I knew was gone from my life, her betrayal sharp and bitter.
I locked Fauna away safely, though her frightened eyes haunted me, and turned to the council. Every hand in the hall rose when I spoke, knowing the storm that had come and the one about to break.
“This is not just an attack,” I said, my voice steady now, low and full of command. “This is war. Amber… and the Spirit Pack… have declared it upon us. And we will answer in kind.”
There was no argument. Only quiet understanding. They had seen the fires, the blood, the ruin. They had seen what she had done.
“We strike at first light,” I continued, eyes burning across the hall. “We will not wait. We will not hesitate. We take the fight to them, to the Spirit Pack. We take it to Amber if we must. There will be no mercy for what they have done. No forgiveness for betrayal. We will answer now.”
Silence held for a moment, then swords were drawn, hands clenched, armor rustling as men prepared. Outside, the wind picked up, carrying the faint smoke of the southern farms, the echo of lives lost. I felt it deep in my chest. That absence, that betrayal, would not break me. It would not stop me.
I would make them pay. Amber, Spirit Pack, whoever stood against us, they would all answer for the blood spilled.
And I swore it to the ashes of what was lost, to the pain that burned through me, and to the empty space she left behind.
War had come, and I would meet it head-on, blade in hand and heart hardened. Amber might have chosen her path, but I chose mine. And mine was vengeance, fire,
and war.
BLOOD BEFORE DAWN