Chapter 164
Kane's POV
Blaze growled deep in my consciousness. I could feel the tearing agony of my spine wound, blood streaming down my black fur, spreading dark stains across the sand. But I couldn't let go—even if my fangs were digging into my own gums, I had to keep my jaws locked around this damned leader's throat.
He'd stopped struggling.
The rogues around us had halted their attack, forming a circle, their eyes shifting between their leader and me.
Dorothy stood guard at my side.
Through the mental link we'd just established, I could feel her emotions with crystal clarity—that almost manic protectiveness, that stubborn refusal to retreat even one step despite being covered in wounds. The bite mark on her shoulder still bled, her cream-colored fur stained deep crimson, but her wolf spirit Willow murmured in my mind: "I won't let anyone hurt him."
I sent a brief command through our mental connection: "Stay alert."
Her immediate response made my chest tighten with something I couldn't name.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to pull away from the overwhelming impact of the mate bond and reassess the situation before me. Steven and the other surviving warriors gathered behind me, every one of them battered and bleeding. We had fewer than ten still standing, while over forty wolves faced us, eyeing us with predatory intent.
If I didn't break this standoff soon, we'd all die here.
I loosened my grip slightly, allowing the leader enough freedom to make sound, then growled through our mental connection: "Shift back. We need to talk."
He froze for an instant, then I felt his wolf spirit receding. Bones began to reorganize, fur retreated, fangs withdrew. I shifted back simultaneously, but kept my claws pressed against his carotid artery—one wrong move and I could tear his throat open in a heartbeat.
The surrounding rogues let out low growls, but none dared approach.
Dorothy shifted back to human form as well, swaying unsteadily beside me. Blood poured from her shoulder wound, but she bit down hard, refusing to make a sound.
I wanted to reach out and steady her, but found I barely had the strength to lift my arm.
"What's your name?" I stared at the man kneeling before me.
He raised his head, complex emotions flickering in those gray-brown eyes—the humiliation of defeat, and something else I couldn't quite place. A kind of desolation.
"Lucas Gray," he said hoarsely.
I narrowed my eyes. That surname wasn't common among rogues, and the air of discipline about him suggested he was no ordinary bandit.
"You weren't born thieves," I said coldly. "An organized, disciplined force like yours shouldn't be reduced to raiding for survival."
Lucas gave a bitter laugh, his smile full of self-mockery. "You're right. We once had a home of our own."
He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing as if struggling to contain some emotion. "I was once First Warrior of a small pack on the edge of the Granite Ranges. Our territory wasn't large, but it was enough for our people to live in peace. Everything changed because of the Stone Ridge Pack!"
I frowned. The Stone Ridge Pack—that supposedly neutral, peaceful, reclusive force.
"And then?" I prompted.
"Those damned Stone Ridge wolves started excavating tunnels underground like madmen to expand their massive fortress, the Iron Wall." Lucas's voice began to tremble, his eyes reddening. "They didn't care about the surrounding ecosystem, didn't care whether their tunnels would destabilize the foundations. One night, our settlement suddenly collapsed."
He closed his eyes, his voice thick with pain. "Half our pack was buried alive in the abyss—elders, children, pregnant mothers... I heard their screams and could do nothing. The survivors tried to seek justice, but were easily crushed by the Stone Ridge Pack's terrifying earth elemental power."
My heart sank.
His words hit me like a hammer blow. In everyone's telling, the Stone Ridge Pack was the last refuge, peaceful hermits who avoided conflict.
But the reality was that for their own interests, they'd coldly crushed the living space of the weak.
Taking my people to them would be like seeking shelter with tigers.
But do we have any other choice right now?
"To feed those who remained, we had no choice but to wander here, surviving through raids." Lucas opened his eyes, meeting my gaze directly. "You can kill me, but my brothers just want to survive."
I stared at him, my mind racing.
Killing him would be easy, but then what? I'd return to Flint with this ragged band of wounded warriors, dragging along the elderly and infirm, to claim credit? Even if the Stone Ridge Pack truly took us in, we'd only be jumping from one cage into a larger trap.
I needed warriors.
I needed a force truly my own, one that wouldn't be manipulated by any power.
And these men before me—these warriors who also carried blood debts and had lost their homes—might be exactly what I needed.
I retracted my claws.
Lucas froze in shock. The surrounding rogues stared in disbelief.
"I won't kill you," I said hoarsely, then forced myself to stand straight despite the searing pain in my spine threatening to make me collapse. "Because I need you."
I looked around at those wary, confused, incredulous faces, speaking each word deliberately: "I am Alpha Kane Price of the Lightning Wolf Pack. I'm rebuilding the Lightning Wolf Pack. Not for revenge, but to claim our place in this cruel world."
Lucas stared at me, his expression a tangled mess of emotions.
"Why should I believe you?" he asked quietly.
I didn't answer with words. I simply extended my hand.
Not with the condescension of a victor bestowing mercy, but as one who'd lost his home, offering an invitation to another.
The silence stretched long enough that I almost thought he'd refuse.
But finally, Lucas grasped my hand.
"I accept," he said hoarsely. "But if you betray us—"
"Then you can take my life anytime," I interrupted, then looked at the rogues behind him. "All of you can."
On the desolate desert plateau, Lucas led the remaining forty-some elite warriors to kneel on one knee, pledging their loyalty to me.
Their voices echoed in the wind, like some ancient oath, like the beginning of a new era.
When the final syllable faded, I finally lost the strength to stand, my body falling backward.
Dorothy caught me instantly.
I looked at her anxious face, at the tears glistening in her amber eyes, feeling that warm, steady bond deep in my soul.
I raised my hand, trembling as I touched her cheek.
"Dorothy," I said softly, my voice full of exhaustion and something like relief. "You're my Mate."
She froze for a moment, then tears spilled down her face.
"I know," she choked out. "I've always known."