Chapter 12: Spies After Her

“Are you sure about this?” 

The voice was quiet, brimming with tightly held fury. 

I leaned my back against the chilly wooden wall of the lodge, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. The faint candlelight danced through the gap under the door, creating moving shadows on the wooden floor. 

Derek had spent nearly an hour in that room with Caleb, their dialogue quiet yet fervent. I hadn't intended to overhear, but when I caught wind of Jared's name, I couldn't bring myself to leave. 

Caleb breathed out forcefully. "I wouldn't present it to you if I weren't certain." 

A break. Then Derek spoke, his voice low and piercing. "Speak it." 

I took a deep breath in. 

“Caleb said grimly, ‘Jared labelled Claire as a traitor.’” “He's sharing the news among the northern packs.” He alleges that she deceived the Midnight Moon Pack, took confidential information, and escaped to Redwater. He has instructed all his allies to locate her. 

My stomach contorted in pain. 

Derek responded right away. "And the scouts?" 

Caleb paused. “Two were apprehended close to the southern border.” They were not fighters. “They acted as scouts, collecting data.” 

Derek muttered a curse quietly to himself. "That scoundrel is scheming something." 

“Caleb cautioned that he won't cease.” "This goes beyond merely winning her back." He’s turning her into a public adversary. Should the other packs trust him, even those who oppose Midnight Moon will regard her as a risk. 

A mass developed in my throat. 

Jared wasn't merely looking for me—he was rallying the whole werewolf community to oppose me. He was eliminating all potential exits, every secure refuge. 

Derek's tone was unsettlingly serene. “He aims to compel my action.” 

"Caleb confirmed that he wants you to hand her over." "And if you don't, he will ensure that every pack views Redwater as a traitor as well." 

The realization struck me as if it were a tangible hit. Jared was no longer just targeting me—he was prepared to ruin Redwater to achieve his goals. 

I gulped nervously, retreating from the door before I could listen to anything more. I had listened to plenty. 

I pivoted and rushed down the corridor, my breathing irregular. 

I had to reflect. I had to— 

A voice halted me in my steps. 

“Are you heading somewhere?” 

Marla was positioned at the hallway's end, arms folded. Her sharp gaze examined me, and I realized right away she had been observing the entire time. 

I compelled a consistent breath. “Simply required some fresh air.” 

She remained still. "You listened, right?" 

I was unsure. Then I gave a nod. 

Marla let out a sigh, massaging her temple with her hand. “I thought this would occur eventually.” 

I tightened my fists. "He's making everyone oppose me." 

“He's in despair,” Marla clarified. “Desperate individuals take foolish and perilous actions.” 

I intended to contend, to assert that Jared was always in command, always deliberate, yet inside, I recognized she was correct. 

This was not the same. Jared had consistently been ruthless, but this extent of public deceit—this wasn’t merely about hurting me. 

This concerned control. 

He had lost me before. He was determined not to allow it to occur again. 

I breathed out unsteadily. “What should I do?” 

Marla's face grew stern. "You engage in combat." 

I shut my eyes momentarily. "Battle?" 

She moved nearer, softening her voice. "Jared aims to turn you into a target, a vulnerability." “To survive, you must transform into something different.” 

I gulped. "And what does that mean?" 

Marla grinned, yet there was an ominous quality to her look. 

"A Problem." 

The following morning, Derek arranged a meeting. 

The council convened in the war chamber, the tension palpable enough to suffocate. I remained on the sidelines, attentive as fighters discussed their next move. 

“We ought to make the first move,” a stocky man rumbled. "Convey a message that we will not be intimidated." 

"No," Caleb replied. “Jared expects us to take the initiative.” “If we strike first, we validate his argument.” 

"And what if we take no action?" another wolf contended. “He dissects us from the darkness.” 

Derek leaned in, his expression difficult to interpret. "We get ready." We reinforce our borders. We state unequivocally—that Redwater does not submit to oppressors. 

A whisper of consent spread across the room, but I barely noticed it. 

My thoughts were racing. 

I was no longer merely a fugitive. I was a piece in a conflict I never sought. 

And I was unaware of how to endure it. 

The Initial Step 

The assault occurred during the night. 

I had just begun to get comfortable in my room when the distant howl disrupted the stillness. 

Then, one more. And one more. 

The alarm sounded throughout the village, and I sprang up my heart racing. 

I hardly had a moment to take my cloak before the door flew open. 

Marla. 

"Get moving," she retorted. "We are being assaulted." 

I refrained from asking questions. I trailed her into the disorder beyond. 

The Warriors had already begun to move, weapons ready, establishing defensive formations. The odour of strange wolves permeated the atmosphere—trespassers. 

A shadow sprang toward me from the side. 

I hardly had a moment to respond before Marla charged in, throwing the assailant to the floor with a fierce growl. 

I backed away, gasping for air. 

“They're spies,” Marla hissed, pushing the unconscious wolf away. “They are evaluating our defences.” 

Another shriek split the night. I turned in time to see Derek grappling with an enemy wolf, claws tearing through fur.

Blood splattered against the dirt.

My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to stay steady.

Jared had made his move.

And if I didn’t become the problem Marla told me to be, I wouldn’t survive the next one.

The atmosphere was dense with the iron odour of blood and the fierce, instinctual growls of fighting wolves. Figures flickered among the trees, teeth gleaming, talons ripping. Redwater’s fighters maintained their position, yet the adversary pressed on, advancing with a menacing accuracy that sent shivers through me. 

These weren’t merely random outlaws or needy wolves seeking refuge. They received training. They possessed a goal. 

They had been sent by Jared. 

Marla pushed me back as another assailant charged forward. She confronted him directly, her claws digging into his side, tearing him from my grasp. He emitted a choked shout before falling, his body still. 

“Stay nearby,” she commanded, her breath laboured. 

I nodded, my heart racing. 

A blaring snarl pierced the night. 

Derek. 

He centralized himself in the fray, his wolf shape looming above foes, his black coat shimmering with blood. He was merciless, relentless. 

However, there were an excessive number of them. 

A figure zipped through the turmoil, quicker than the manoeuvre through the disturbance toward Derek. My breath was stuck in my throat. 

I recognized that fragrance. 

Jared's Beta version. 

Lucas. 

He was present. 

And he was targeted directly at Derek. 

“Derek!” I shouted. 

He hardly turned when Lucas attacked, twisting in the air, his sword gleaming as it aimed at Derek’s unprotected side. 

Time appeared to drag on. 

Derek turned, yet he wasn’t quick enough. The blade pierced his ribs. 

A groan of agony escaped him, but rather than stumbling backwards, he harnessed the force to slam Lucas into the earth. 

The impact's force fractured the ground below them. 

Lucas coughed, blood oozing from his lips. "This isn't finished," he whispered. 

Derek snatched the knife from his side and held it to Lucas's throat. 

“It is for you.” 

With a rapid, fierce motion, he finished him off. 

Quietness descended. 

The other spies, noticing their leader was deceased, escaped into the darkness. 

For an extended period, nobody said anything. 

At that moment, the understanding dawned. 

This was not a typical raid. 

Jared had dispatched his Beta to eliminate Derek. 

This was not solely about bringing me back. 

It was an announcement of war.