CHAPTER 225

CHAPTER 225
ALARIC

The war room felt smaller tonight, the air thick with the scent of old stone, iron, and the low simmer of too many predators in one space. Torchlight flickered across the scarred oak table.

Alphas had come from all over—packs stretching from the northern wilds to the southern coasts, alphas who rarely shared the same room without blood being spilled.

They’d come because the summons had been clear: this wasn’t a request for alliance. This was a call to war. And the stakes weren’t territory or pride—they were survival.

My father, Alper, sat to my right—broad-shouldered, silver threading through his dark hair, eyes the same hard amber as mine.

He hadn’t spoken yet.

He never did until he had something worth saying.

Uncle Andrew leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, silent as always but watching everything.

Mom.

She just sipped her coffee like it was another ordinary Tuesday morning—calm, unruffled

And fucking Ryan—Alpha Ryan—lounged at the end, that smug smirk playing on his lips like he thought he was doing us a favor just by showing up.

Fury boiled in my veins like molten iron, hot and heavy, as I forced myself to stand there in my own office, staring down Alpha Ryan like he wasn’t the last person on earth I wanted breathing the same air as me.

It took every ounce of self-control not to let my wolf surge forward, not to shift and rip him limb from limb right here on the polished hardwood floors.

The bastard’s smirk—smug, oily, like he knew exactly how much his presence grated on me—only made it worse. But I held it in. For now. We had bigger enemies than old pack grudges

Ryan’s father, Arthur, previous Alpha of the Reynolds pack, had been a rotten leader and an even worse person.

The rumors weren’t just whispers—they were screams.

Abuse, coercion, twisted games with his own pack members. Relations between our packs had been a powder keg for years, ready to explode at the slightest spark.

My mother had originally come from Reynolds territory, and that sick old wolf had tried to stop her from leaving when she met my father.

He’d wanted her as his chosen mate—forced mate—and when my father fought him for her and won fair and square, the bitterness had festered like an open wound.

Over the years, Arthur had taken every cheap shot he could: blocking business deals, forbidding inter-pack matings, refusing to let his wolves work in our towns or cross borders without harassment. He’d turned what could’ve been an alliance into a cold war, all because he couldn’t handle losing.

And now his son stood here, carrying the same stench of entitlement, pretending to play nice while we dealt with a threat that could swallow us all whole.

But Master didn’t care about old grudges. He cared about power. And if we didn’t unite—grudgingly or not—we’d all end up as his puppets or his dust.

Maps sprawled across the surface of the table, marked with red pins for sightings, black Xs for confirmed kills.

I straightened, forcing my voice to stay even as I turned to the room.

“Listen up,” I said, my voice cutting through the low murmurs like a blade.

“We’re here because Master is no longer a shadow threat,” I said, voice low and steady, meeting each alpha’s gaze in turn.

Master isn’t just a rogue vampire—he’s a plague. He’s been building his army in the dark—turning fledglings into fanatics, corrupting rogues with promises of power or threats of oblivion.

He’s responsible for the disappearances in the northern territories—the ones that look like accidents but reek of his crescent burns. He’s the reason the rogues are organizing instead of scattering like rats. And now he’s fixated on my mate. On Amara.”

They’d all been informed about her—and the power of her blood.

The exact nature of what ran through her veins.

Enough to know she wasn’t just my mate.

She was the pivot point.

The fulcrum.

The one thing Master needed to tip the scales permanently in his favor. Enough to know her blood carried something old, something moon-blessed,

The alphas shifted, some exchanging glances, others growling low in agreement.

“He fucking wants her,” I continued, leaning forward, palms pressing into the table.

“He wants her blood, her power, whatever it is that makes her different. If he gets her, he doesn’t just control one pack—he controls the balance. He could reforge the lines under his rule, turn us all into slaves or ash. We’ve seen what he does to those who resist—packs wiped out, alphas broken, fledglings twisted into weapons that turn on their own. He’s not building an empire. He’s building extinction for anyone who doesn’t kneel.”

Uncle Andrew pushed off the wall, his voice low.

“We need to take him out before he gets close enough to smell her,” he said, each word deliberate, edged with iron.

“No more waiting. No more watching his rogues test our borders like they’re probing for weak spots. We end this now—on our terms.”

Dad nodded once, the motion sharp and final, his amber eyes burning with the same cold resolve that had kept our pack standing through wars older than most of the alphas in this room.

“We’ve already got confirmed reports,” he said, tapping a cluster of red pins on the northern map.

“His rogues aren’t just sniffing around anymore. They’re probing—deliberately, systematically. Testing response times. Guard rotations. Weak points. He’s not being subtle. He’s being confident. And confidence like that means he’s already planning the strike.”

Alex straightened, voice hard.

“Then we stop playing defense. We build the trap. Leak a controlled vulnerability—make him think he’s found an opening. Draw him out into the open where we can see him coming. We end him before he ever gets within a hundred miles of her.”

Dominic’s gaze was ice as he spoke.

“We coordinate. Full pack mobilization on the borders. Outer territories locked down. No rogue crosses without losing fur. We make every approach cost him. Force his hand. When he commits, we hit him with everything we have.We coordinate. Full pack mobilization on the borders. Outer territories locked down. No rogue crosses without losing fur. We make every approach cost him. Force his hand. When he commits, we hit him with everything we have.”

A low chorus of growls answered—agreement, fury, determination.

Ryan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, that smirk still in place.

“So we’re all just supposed to follow your lead? Risk our packs because your mate’s suddenly special? What if this is just another wolf power play? You expect us to drop everything because you say ‘Master bad, come help’?”

Every alpha felt the shift—the air thickening, the temperature dropping, my wolf pressing so close to the surface I could taste blood on my tongue.

My claws flexed against the oak, leaving shallow grooves in the wood.

I met Ryan’s gaze—slowly, deliberately—letting him see every ounce of the fury I’d been swallowing since he walked through my door.

“My mate,” I said, voice cold steel wrapped around a snarl,

“is the reason we’re still breathing.”

I leaned forward, palms pressing so hard into the table the wood creaked under my fingers.

“You think this is about me? About my power? You think I called every alpha in three territories here to stroke my ego? Master isn’t coming for me. He’s coming for her. For Amara. If Master gets her,” I continued, each word precise and lethal,

“he doesn’t just take one Luna. He takes the chance for any of us to live freely ever again. He takes the balance. He takes the last shred of power that keeps him from becoming unstoppable.”

I leaned forward, claws fully extended now, sinking into the oak with a low, splintering crack.

“You just fucking heard that Amara’s blood isn’t just blood,” I said, voice dropping to a dangerous, rumbling growl that vibrated through the table.

“It’s power—raw, ancient, moon-blessed power. The kind that can reforge. The kind that can bend witch, wolf, and vampire lines back into one under whoever controls it. Master doesn’t want her as a trophy. He wants her as a battery.

Her blood would make him stronger than any vampire who’s ever walked this earth. More dangerous. More immortal. He’d become the apex predator we’ve all pretended doesn’t exist. And once he has that power? There won’t be borders left to fight over. There won’t be packs left to protect. There’ll just be him—ruling over whatever’s left of us, or burning it all down because we dared to resist.”

I pointed one finger at Ryan, claws gleaming in the torchlight, voice dropping to a lethal rumble that made the torches flicker.

“And you—” I snarled, letting every ounce of alpha fury bleed into the words as I pointed one claw-tipped finger straight at Ryan,

“you sit there smirking like this is still about your daddy’s bruised ego and your pack’s pathetic border games. You think this is personal? You think I called you here to beg for help? I didn’t. I called you here to tell you the truth: Master is coming. He’s already here. His rogues are sniffing your borders the same way they’re sniffing mine. His spies are already in your towns. And he’s after my mate because she’s the key to his endgame. Because if he gets her blood, he gets everything. The balance. The power. The future.”

I leaned forward, claws sinking deeper into the oak with a low, splintering crack.

“Your pack—your wolves, your mates, your children—will be the first to burn when he decides you’re no longer useful. When his rogues pick off your scouts, turn your young, and leave crescent burns on your dead. When they come for your borders, your homes, your bloodlines. And you’ll be sitting there with your pride and your grudges, wondering why no one came to save you.”

I straightened slowly, voice dropping to a lethal.

“You want to sit this out because of old grudges? Fine. Stay home. Hide behind your borders. Let your father’s bitterness keep you warm at night. But when they come—and they will come—don’t expect me to send a single wolf. Because I’ll be busy ending him. I’ll be busy ripping his heart out with my bare hands and feeding it to the crows while the rest of you cower behind your pride.”

The room was so silent the torches sounded loud.

Ryan’s smirk had vanished. His face had gone pale, jaw clenched, eyes darting around the table like he was finally seeing the noose tightening around all of us.

No one else spoke.

No one needed to.

The truth had teeth now.

And those teeth were bared.