Eighty Two : Storm at the Gates

Eighty Two : Storm at the Gates

Ronald's POV

The fortress rose like a wound against the sky.

Runes burned across the iron gates, old magic, pulsing red beneath the Blood Moon’s glare.

“Stand down, Alpha,” Lucas hissed beside me. His sword dripped blood from the last scout we’d cut through. “Those seals aren’t meant for us. They’re Council work.”

I ignored him, eyes locked on the gates. Every inch of me throbbed with one thought, she’s inside.

I could feel Mara’s heartbeat through the bond. Weak. Scattered. Fading.

“Ronald,” Lucas tried again. “We attack those walls, we declare war. That’s treason.”

I bared my teeth. “Then let me be a traitor.”

The words cracked through the night. My warriors stiffened but didn’t move. They were Bloodfang, trained to follow, even when the path led straight into hell.

Lightning split the clouds overhead. The Blood Moon’s light turned it crimson.

I stepped closer to the gates, heat crawling beneath my skin. “Open it,” I growled.

No answer. Only the hum of the runes.

“Alpha,” Lucas said quietly, “they sealed it with blood. The gate won’t yield unless one of us dies.”

I drew my blade. “Then it’ll take theirs.”

A voice echoed from the battlements above, smooth, cold, echoing.

“Ronald Bloodfang. Son of the traitor who spilled Silverfang blood. You were warned not to interfere.”

I looked up. A Councilor stood there, face hidden behind a silver mask, robes rippling in the wind.

“Where is she?”

The Councilor spread his arms. “In the hall of judgment. The trial begins at moonrise.”

Lucas swore softly. “That’s minutes from now.”

My pulse thundered. “What trial?”

The Councilor smiled beneath the mask. “The kind that ends in fire.”

Rage tore through me. My wolf lunged beneath my skin, claws pressing to the surface.

“Open the gates!” I roared.

The Councilor didn’t flinch. “Stand down, Alpha. The Council’s word is law. Interfere, and your pack will burn with her.”

Something inside me snapped.

I slammed my palm against the gate. Pain flared—runes flared brighter. The scent of burning flesh filled the air, but I didn’t pull back.

“Ronald!” Lucas grabbed my shoulder. “You’ll kill yourself!”

I shook him off. “I told her she wouldn’t face this alone. I won’t break that vow now.”

The gates shuddered. The runes flickered, reacting to the bond that pulsed between us.

Mara. She was still fighting there. I could feel her fear, her defiance, even her pain.

The bond burned hotter.

A shockwave ripped through the ground, throwing everyone back. The gates held but cracks split the outer wall.

The Councilor’s voice carried down again, louder now, mocking.

“Your devotion is touching. But your mate’s fate is sealed. When the Blood Moon reaches its height, her head will fall before the Elders.”

My world narrowed to a single heartbeat.

Lucas cursed. “Ronald, think! You break those gates, every pack in the north will turn on us.”

“Then they can watch me burn them all,” I snarled.

I turned to my warriors. “Form up. If we fall, we fall as Bloodfangs.”

Some hesitated. Most didn’t.

Then came the sound, the steady rhythm of hooves. From the treeline behind, Council riders appeared, cloaked in black, circling like wolves scenting blood.

“We’re surrounded,” Lucas muttered.

“Good.”

I raised my blade. “We break through, or we die trying.”

But before we could move, the runes on the gate flared again, brighter, blinding white this time.

The fortress itself seemed to wake.

Then the Councilor spoke once more, voice cutting through the storm:

“Mara Silverfang has been judged guilty. Her execution begins when the moon reaches its peak.”

Gasps broke among my men.

“Execution?” Lucas breathed. “They’re not even pretending it’s a trial.”

The blood roaring in my ears drowned out everything else.

I pressed my forehead to the gate, whispering to the bond, Hold on, Mara. Just breathe.

And then, like a spark through the link, I heard her.

A faint voice, strained but alive. Ronald… don’t come. It’s what they want.

I almost laughed. “Too late.”

My wolf surged forward, eyes burning gold. The world blurred in crimson light.

“Back!” Lucas shouted. “He’s shifting!”

I gave in. The last of my restraint shattered. My body broke and rebuilt in a heartbeat, bones cracking, muscles stretching, fur ripping through flesh.

The Alpha wolf hit the ground with a snarl that shook the stones.

The runes screamed. The gates split.

Energy exploded outward, throwing soldiers from the walls. I leapt through the wreckage, claws carving through air and steel alike.

“RONALD!” Lucas roared behind me, but I was already gone.

Inside the fortress, the scent of smoke and fear filled my lungs. The trial was already beginning. I could hear the crowd, the Elders’ chants, the chains dragging across stone.

Mara’s heartbeat pulsed through my skull, fast, terrified, defiant.

I ran toward it, tearing through everything in my way.

And as I reached the inner courtyard, a bell tolled, the sound heavy and final.

From above, the same Councilor’s voice rang out once more, calm as ever.

“The Blood Moon has risen. Let judgment be carried out.”

I lifted my head just in time to see a figure dragged into the open square, Mara, bound in chains, silver light glinting off her blade.

My heart stopped.

The Councilor raised a hand.

“Let the heir of Silverfang die.”

The moonlight deepened, staining the stones red.

I roared, and the fortress trembled.