Chapter 245 The Welcome: Zoey's POV

Chapter 245 The Welcome: Zoey's POV
The high mountain pass welcomed us with cold air and the sharp scent of pine.

Our column of sixty-five warriors wound up the narrow dirt trail toward the central settlement.

The supply wagons creaked under the weight of the captured iron spears, fresh grain sacks, and the recovered ancestral chest. The horses snorted, their breath turning to white steam in the freezing mountain air.

At the edge of the stone archway, the entire North Pack waited.

Old men, women, and young children lined the wooden palisade. When they saw Klaus riding at the front of the line on his grey stallion, a massive cheer erupted from a hundred throats. It echoed off the snow-covered granite cliffs, loud and wild.

"Alpha!" the crowd roared. "Klaus! The Alpha!"

Klaus did not smile, but his dark eyes burned with a quiet, fierce warmth. He kept his head held high, his wide shoulders back, his dark wool cloak heavy over his blood-stained iron breastplate.

I rode half a horse-length behind his right shoulder. Across my chest, the leather strap of my short bow sat tight. Under my wool tunic, the silver signet ring of his father hung against my skin, cold and solid against my heart.

We pulled up in the middle of the central village square.

Elder Kenneth stepped out from the crowd, his long grey beard tucked into his leather belt, his wooden staff tapping against the hard-packed dirt. He looked at the heavy iron-bound chest sitting in the first wagon behind us.

"Is it done, Klaus?" the old man asked, his voice shaking with age and hope.

Klaus dismounted in one fluid motion, his iron-shod boots hitting the dirt with a loud thud. He reached into the back of the wagon, pulled out the carved iron war horn of his father, and held it high above his head.

The village went dead silent.

"Kaelen is dead!" Klaus bellowed, his voice carrying to every corner of the mountain camp. "The Iron Citadel is taken! Our southern border is secure, and our ancestral relics have returned home!"

The crowd went wild.

Women wept openly, hugging their children close. Young boys cheered, pounding their wooden practice swords against the timber fences. Bram and Valerius leapt down from their horses, throwing their arms around their wives and kin as the village flooded the square to welcome the column back.

Elder Kenneth looked at the iron horn, then looked up at Klaus. Tears filled the deep wrinkles around the old man's eyes.

"The bloodline is restored," Kenneth whispered, bowing his head deeply. "The North Pack has its true leader."

"Not just a leader," Bram called out from the crowd, stepping forward with his bloody hand raised high. "Look at who stood at his back! Look at who protected his flank in the high tower!"

The pack turned their eyes to me.

I stayed on my mount for a second, my jaw set, my hands gripping the leather reins tight. I had never cared for the cheers of the crowd. I was a tracker, a hunter born in the high crags who preferred the silence of the pine forest to the noise of a village square.

Klaus walked over to my horse. He reached up with both of his large, calloused hands, taking me around the waist, and lifted me down to the stone ground as if I weighed nothing at all.

He kept his hands on my hips, looking down into my eyes in front of the entire pack.

"Zoey bled for this victory," Klaus said, his voice loud enough for every warrior to hear. "She held the stairs. She cut down Kaelen’s elite guards while I fought for the vault. Without her blade, the North Pack would still be fighting in the dirt."

A loud, thunderous roar went up from the warriors. Bram pounded his axe handle against his wooden shield, starting a rhythmic chant that spread through the crowd.

"Zoey! Zoey! Zoey!"

My throat felt tight. I looked around at the faces staring at me—not with suspicion or doubt, but with deep, fierce respect. For the first time in my life, I felt the true weight of belonging to a pack that would bleed for me just as I bled for them.

"Come," Klaus said softly, his deep voice meant only for my ears. "The elders wait at the high fire."

We walked together toward the center of the village, where the high council pit burned with thick pine logs. The pack cleared a wide path for us, falling into a respectful silence as we stepped down into the stone circle.

Elder Kenneth stood on the far side of the roaring flames, holding a small clay bowl filled with red berry juice, ash, and pure mountain water.

"Tonight, we do not just celebrate a victory over our enemies," Kenneth declared, looking at the assembled crowd. "Tonight, the North Pack becomes whole."

Klaus turned to face me. The bright orange light of the fire flickered across his harsh, angular features, softening the dark lines of fatigue around his eyes.

He reached under my tunic, his fingers brushing gently against my collarbone as he pulled out the silver signet ring hanging from its leather cord. He unfastened the knot, holding the cold metal in his palm.

"In the high tower, I gave you my father's ring," Klaus said, his dark eyes fixed on mine. "Today, I give you my name, my blood, and my life."

He took my right hand in his. He drew a small silver skinning blade from his belt and made a clean, quick cut across the flat of his palm. He handed the blade to me.

I did not flinch. I took the silver blade, turned it, and made an identical cut across my own palm.

I dropped the blade into the dirt and pressed my hand flat against his.

Our blood mixed together, warm, thick, and slick between our locked fingers. A sudden, deep jolt of heat shot straight up my arm, settling deep in my chest. The bond clicked into place—heavy, permanent, and unbreakable. I could feel his heartbeat in my own chest, steady and strong as the mountain itself.

Klaus slid the silver signet ring onto my left finger. It fit perfectly.

"You are my mate," Klaus growled softly, his fingers tightening around mine as blood ran down our wrists. "My equal. The Luna of the North Pack."

"I am yours," I answered, my voice steady, cold, and true. "Until the mountains fall to ash."

Klaus pulled me close, wrapping his heavy arms around my waist, and pressed his mouth hard against mine. The pack erupted into a deafening storm of howls, cheers, and roaring applause that shook the high mountain trees.

I closed my eyes, leaning my head against his heavy iron breastplate, listening to the strong, steady rhythm of the heart that now belonged to me.

The war was far from over. Other lords would come, and other armies would march on our borders.