A FRACTURED ALLIANCE

A FRACTURED ALLIANCE

AYLA'S POV

I don't even know when I ended up in the middle of all this. One second I'm trying to breathe through the quiet buzzing in my chest, and the next, I’m standing in the middle of an argument that sounds more like a verbal war zone than anything else.

Voices are raised. Tempers, barely held together by threads are snapping left and right.

"You think we are just going to sit back and let another you climb to the top and control everything again?" A rogue, a big guy, scar across his cheek says as he steps forward. His voice is loud and sharp, slicing through the noise like a blade. He’s not just angry. He’s offended. "Your packs let Nadira crawl her way into power. Where were you all when she was infecting every damn corner of our land with her filth?"

An Alpha from the northern packs, tall, stiff posture, probably hasn’t smiled since birth narrows his eyes. "Watch your tone. You’re packless. You don’t get to stand here and pretend like you have got moral high ground."

The rogue laughs. It’s bitter. Ugly. "And yet, here I am. Still breathing. Still fighting. And your perfect little pack system? It almost got us all killed. You hid in your territories while she wrecked mayhem. We were the one to take the burnt of her crap!"

They start shouting over each other again. The room, some old conference space they found in a half-collapsed building on the outskirts is packed. Wolves from different factions. Rogues, Alphas, the in-between types. Some still have bandages around their arms or blood crusted on their clothes. No one’s really slept. You can feel the tension in the walls.

Garrick’s voice cuts in, low but firm. "Enough. We’ve already buried too many."

He looks tired. The deep, bone-deep kind. He hasn’t shifted in hours, probably because he’s saving strength. He leans forward, bracing his hands on the edge of a table that’s scratched to hell.

"This isn't the time to tear each other apart. You want to fight for territory? Fine. But you’re doing exactly what she would’ve wanted. Splintering. Falling apart."

Callum chimes in a second later, aiming his words at the more polished side of the room. "The packs need to listen too. You keep acting like you’re above them—"

"Because we are," another Alpha interrupts.

Callum’s eyes narrow, and for a second, I think he’s about to lunge. He doesn’t. Just leans back in his chair, jaw tight. "Keep thinking that. See how long that illusion lasts when the next monster shows up."

They keep snapping back and forth. I glance at Garrick. He catches my eye and gives me the tiniest nod. Like he’s silently asking, Can you say something? Maybe it’s not even that. Maybe I’m just done standing around.

I step forward.

The noise doesn’t stop right away, but I speak anyway. "Hey. Shut up. All of you."

A few heads turn. Some look surprised. A few look like they want to argue. But I don’t stop.

"You want to act like this is about land? Fine. But that’s not the point. The point is, we almost died. All of us. Nadira didn’t care if you were a rogue or a pack wolf. She wanted control. Power. And we were too divided to stop her before it got this bad."

A rogue with a half-healed burn on his arm mutters, "So what, you think we should hold hands and sing now?"

I sigh. "No. I think we should stop being stupid. Look around. She's dead, but something’s still wrong. You feel it. I feel it. Garrick feels it. The sky’s not right. The air’s not right. If we start tearing into each other now, it’s just going to make whatever comes next even worse."

They go quiet. Not all the way. But enough.

"We have to rebuild," I add, softer this time. "Not just the territory. The trust. The structure. I know some of you don’t want to hear that from me. That’s fine. But don’t act like the enemy is gone just because she is."

Garrick clears his throat. "She’s right."

Callum nods too, and for once, he’s not sarcastic or biting. "For what it’s worth, I’d rather have her leading than half the idiots talking right now."

Someone actually laughs. It's short, like they forgot what laughter sounded like.

My eyes flick to the empty spot near the far wall. Thane’s not here. He said he’d stay with his dad, and I didn’t argue. I wanted to. I really did. But something told me this was time he needed. Time I couldn’t intrude on.

I wonder if he’s okay. I wonder what he’s thinking.

I almost left halfway through this mess to go check on him, but... I couldn’t. He should have that space. And I should be here.

A rogue steps forward. A woman this time. Her voice is rough, but steady. "Alright. So let’s say we agree to not kill each other. What then? Who leads? Who makes the calls now?"

Silence.

Everyone looks around, like the answer’s going to come from the ceiling.

Garrick looks at me. Again. But I don’t move. Not yet.

"We figure that out," I say after a beat. "Together. Not today. Maybe not even this week. But we’ll figure it out."

Callum leans forward. "And in the meantime, we protect what we’ve got. Because I guarantee whatever Nadira was waking up... it’s not done yet."

That shuts them all up.

They don’t leave in a neat line or anything. Some storm out. Some linger. Some whisper to each other in tight little groups.

But no one fights.

And maybe for now, that’s enough.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Garrick moves beside me. "That was good. What you said."

"It was honest."

He nods. "Still good."

I look toward the window. The clouds outside are darker than they should be. The kind of dark that makes your skin itch.

Som
ething’s coming. I don’t know what.

But I know this—

We haven’t seen the worst yet.