22

The council chamber was filled with tension. Dorian stood at the center, facing the watchful eyes of the pack’s leaders. The weight of his words still lingered in the air—an alliance was the only way to survive what was coming.

Kian sat at the head of the table, his fingers steepled as he studied Dorian. Amara stood beside him, arms crossed. She wasn’t convinced, not yet.

“You want us to trust you,” she said. “But trust isn’t freely given. Why should we believe the Northern Pack won’t turn on us the moment it suits them?”

Dorian met her gaze without hesitation. “Because if we don’t stand together, we all fall.”

Jarek scoffed from his seat. “And you expect us to believe that the Northern Pack, who has remained silent while we fought for our lives, suddenly wants to help?”

Dorian’s jaw tightened. “We didn’t know how bad it had gotten. The rogues kept us distracted, striking at our borders just enough to keep us from focusing on anything else. But now we see the bigger picture. The enemy you fought was only a fraction of what’s coming.”

Kian leaned forward. “Tell us everything.”

Dorian nodded. “The one who led the rogues you defeated was just a pawn. A much greater force is gathering, led by someone who calls himself Magnus. He’s uniting rogue factions, bringing them under his banner. And he’s not just after territory. He wants control of all packs.”

Silence stretched through the room.

Amara exhaled slowly. “So we’re looking at a full-scale war.”

Dorian nodded grimly. “Yes. And we don’t have much time.”

Kian exchanged glances with his council members. They were strong, but a war on this scale? They would need help.

Jarek broke the silence. “If we do this, what guarantees do we have that your Alpha won’t betray us when it’s convenient?”

Dorian hesitated, then reached into his coat and pulled out a small iron pendant engraved with an ancient symbol. “My Alpha sent this as a token of good faith. It’s an old agreement mark. If we accept an alliance, we abide by it under the old laws.”

Kian studied the pendant, weighing the decision. If the Northern Pack betrayed them, the consequences would be disastrous. But if what Dorian said was true, they needed allies.

Amara sighed, rubbing her temples. “We don’t have a choice, do we?”

Kian met her gaze. “No, we don’t.”

He turned back to Dorian. “Tell your Alpha we accept the alliance. But know this—if you betray us, there will be no mercy.”

Dorian inclined his head. “Understood.”

Preparations began immediately. Messengers were sent to the Northern Pack to finalize the terms of the alliance, while scouts were dispatched to gather more information on Magnus and his growing forces.

Amara trained harder than ever, sparring with the younger warriors, ensuring they were ready for what was coming. The pack buzzed with activity, the tension of impending war pressing down on them all.

One evening, as she sat sharpening her blades, Kian approached. “You don’t trust him.”

She looked up, meeting his gaze. “Would you?”

Kian sat beside her. “No. But I trust that we can’t fight this alone.”

She sighed. “I just hope we don’t regret this.”

Kian placed a hand on her shoulder. “We won’t. Because we’ll be ready.”

As the moon rose over the pack’s land, the air felt heavier, charged with the knowledge that this was only the beginning. War was coming, and they had chosen their side.

The days following the alliance agreement were filled with tension and preparation. The pack worked tirelessly to strengthen their defenses and integrate the warriors from the Northern Pack. Training grounds were crowded, the clang of steel and the growls of sparring wolves echoing through the land. The threat of Magnus loomed over them all.

Amara oversaw the training alongside Jarek, ensuring that their warriors were ready for the battles ahead. The Northern Pack’s warriors were strong, disciplined, and efficient, but there was still an air of distrust between the groups. Years of territorial disputes and grudges did not disappear overnight.

One afternoon, Dorian and a small contingent of Northern warriors joined Amara’s training session. As she observed them sparring, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The way they moved was different—sharp, calculated, almost as if they were hiding something.

“You’re holding back,” Amara accused as she stepped forward, eyes locking onto Dorian’s.

Dorian straightened. “We’re not here to fight you. We’re here to fight Magnus.”

Amara narrowed her eyes. “Then stop acting like you have something to prove and show us what you can really do.”

Dorian exhaled sharply before signaling to his warriors. Within moments, the tension escalated into a full-contact sparring match, the ground vibrating under the impact of powerful strikes. Amara threw herself into the fight, testing their strength firsthand. It was clear—they were skilled, dangerous, but most importantly, they could be trusted in battle.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Kian called for a war council. The leaders of both packs gathered in the great hall, maps spread across the wooden table. The latest reports from the scouts painted a grim picture—Magnus was gathering more rogues, and his numbers were growing faster than expected.

“We have a week at most before he makes his move,” Kian said, his tone grim. “We need to strike first.”

Jarek leaned forward, pointing at the map. “His forces are scattered, but if we hit them before they fully unite, we might stand a chance.”

Dorian nodded. “Agreed. We can lead a raid to weaken their numbers before they consolidate their forces.”

Amara studied the map, tracing the paths with her fingers. “We need to be smart about this. If we hit them too hard, too soon, Magnus might accelerate his plans and attack before we’re ready.”

Kian met her gaze. “Then we hit them where it hurts, but we stay in control. We set the pace of this war.”

The room was silent as the leaders took in the weight of his words. This was it. The battle for survival had begun.

The next morning, the warriors assembled at dawn, preparing for their first offensive against Magnus’s growing army. The air was thick with anticipation, the weight of the coming war pressing down on them all. As Amara strapped on her weapons, she glanced at Kian. He gave her a nod—steady, unwavering.

No more waiting. No more hesitation.

The first strike belonged to them.