Chapter 103: The Return of the Alpha

Chapter 103: The Return of the Alpha
Derek POV

Claire's face was the first thing I saw on waking.

Warm and consistent, her hand was resting softly on my chest. Her lips were moving, saying something, but I could clearly hear her voice a few seconds before.

“You are up,” she muttered. Her words emanated relief like the sun bursting through clouds.

I tried to talk, but my throat was parched. Claire grabbed a glass of water and lifted me to sitùse up. Though I couldn't be bothered, every motion sent dull aches through my muscles. I lived. I stayed here.

"How long?" I shot, my voice rough.

"Six days," she had softly said. "Six days you were asleep, Derek."

Six. The fight, the blade of the roque Alpha cutting far, the blood, the searing pain—waves returned the memories to me. I blinked gradually. And afterwards, blackness.

Claire said with a shaking voice, "I thought I lost you."

I grabbed her hand. You did not.

She nodded, and I noticed tears in her eyes first time in decades. From hope, not from fear.

I told you, "You kept the pack together." "Did you not?"

Her little smile was given. I did try. They followed you because they had faith in you."

I whispered, "No," squeezing her fingers. "They followed because they also had faith in you."

Under the watch of the healers, I rested in bed for one more day. Still, I could not remain stationary for too long. The pack wanted to see me. They had to see that I remained their Alpha.

I dressed in the ritual leather, signifying myself as a chief, by the third morning. Though my body yet astilld, my mind was issues recently. Powerful.

The whole yard grew quiet when I exited the healing chamber. Elders, fighters, and puppies stood frozen, eyes wide with astonishment and wonder, dozens of wolves.

One at a time, they bent.

Nodding to them, I moved deliberately forward to let the force of my steps drown out any speech. Claire walked along beside me, her chin held up and her presence calm and assured.

Near the town hall, Jared was waiting, arms crossed and smiling.

He said, "You don't know how to die, can you?"

I'm not dressed in this fashion.

He laughed, but the feeling driving it was genuine. He moved ahead and handed me a warrior's clasp. Powerful. Polite.

He said things have changed. "Still not all of them."

I turned my head. "What's your point?"

"There is unsettlement," he said. "Whispers in the southern forest." Wolves are unhappy with the Treaty of Peace. They have been silent, but given your return...

"They might hit," I said.

He nodded that way. "Absolutely."

I called the council that evening.

Claire, naturally, was there at my side. Riverfang's Jordan, Maren of the Northern Cliffs, Beta Lucas of East, and Jared, also, not as a council member but more of a respected voice.

With nervous energy permeating the room, we sat around the fire.

Maren started: "There are rumours of a new leader creating a faction." They named themselves the Hollow Fangs."

I scrunched my brows. Years before, I felt they had dissolved.

"Those did," Lucas remarked. "Still, somebody has returned them."

"Any idea who?" I asked.

Jordan bent over. "Callum was mentioned twice in patrol reports."

Claire tensed up next to me. "Midnight Moon Callum?"

"The same," Jordan affirmed.

Claire gave me a look. "After the battle, I assumed he vanished."

"He did," I answered. "But obviously, he did not remain absent."

We dispatched scouts to the southern border early the following day. I required clarification. Claire and I went back to the training pitch, where young fighters were honing their craft. As I watched them, my heart grew. These were Redwater's future—strong, devoted, and unafraid.

Claire looked over at me. "We can not wait for Callum to attack first if he is in charge."

"I concur," I replied. "But we require evidence."

Minutes later, a scout, panting and trembling, rushed into the field as though fate had heard me.

"Alpha," he exclaimed. "You must come right now."

The forest thinned out as we rode quickly to the southern border. In the distance, smoke rose. A small village was in ruins when we got there, with houses burned, animals killed, and the Redwater flag ripped and buried in mud.

According to the few wolves that survived, it occurred shortly before dawn. One wolf with silver eyes and a scar across his jaw led a group of twelve masked wolves.

"Callum," Claire said, her eyes brimming with anger.

Not only had he come back, he was making a statement.

Even worse, he had engraved the words "Redwater will fall" into a tree trunk.

I stood in front of the assembled pack members in the council hall, their faces grim and expectant.

I assured them, "This attack will not go unanswered." However, we will not act irascibly. We will take deliberate action.

Claire went on, "We will defend what we created." "However, we will not turn into what we battled to eradicate."

The wolves screamed in agreement.

That evening, Claire and I stood at the valley's edge while the pack fell into a restless sleep. The land we fought so hard to defend was covered in silver shadows as the moon shone through the trees.

I remarked, "We were meant to be at peace."

“We are,” she replied. “But peace doesn’t mean we stop fighting. It just means we choose what’s worth fighting for.”

I looked at her. "How about you? Do you still want to tell me about this madness?

She grinned. “Always.”

I paused as she turned back towards the village, contemplating what might happen next. Callum was not your typical danger. He was aware of our weaknesses, our land, and our ways.

Even worse, he was not by himself.

The wind changed, bringing with it an unfamiliar smell.

My eyes narrowed as I turned.

A figure in black stood across the treeline. He was not hiding. He desired for me to see him.

Callum.

Slowly, he lifted his hand and gestured towards Redwater's centre.

A caution.

or a pledge.

Then he disappeared into the shadows.

I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe.

Because I knew.

This wasn’t over.