Chapter 80

Chapter 80
Olivia's Point of View

The moment we push aside the heavy tent flap, the air changes.

It is warm inside despite the cool breeze outside, the space is thick with the sharp scent of antiseptic and the muted, pained murmurs of the injured. The lantern lights cast long shadows over the cots, and every empty space between them is cluttered with makeshift trays, bandages, herbs, bowls of water, anything the healers could grab quickly.

Ripley walks just a step behind me, close enough that I feel the quiet strength of him at my back. I am grateful for it.

The tent feels heavier than it did earlier.

I scan the space and spot Liana near the far end, kneeling beside an older wolf who looks half conscious, her hands moving gently but fast as she rewraps a bandage along his ribs. Her hair is tied back in a messy knot, a few strands slipping free and sticking to her forehead. She looks tired, but focused.

“Let’s go help her,” I say softly, and Ripley nods his head.

We weave between the cots, stepping around a healer rushing past with a bowl of steaming water. Ripley offers to help him carry it, but the healer waves him off, insisting he has got it. We keep moving.

When we reach Liana, she glances up at us, relief flickering over her face. “Good. Extra hands. I am buried over here.”

“What do you need?” I ask, already kneeling beside her.

She jerks her chin towards a small table behind us. “Fresh gauze. And someone needs to help wash the burns on the boy behind me, his mom is in shock, she can’t focus.”

Ripley moves before either of us can answer, heading straight for the small boy curled on his side on the next cot, his mother sitting stiff and pale beside him. He crouches down, gentle but steady, speaking softly so they are not startled. The woman blinks at him, dazed, but she nods her head. A moment later, he begins helping clean the burn marks, slow and careful, like the boy might break if he breathes too hard.

My chest tightens.

I force myself to turn back to my own work.

Liana hands me a small pouch of herbs. “Mash that. Then help me finish with his ribs. It is clean but needs pressure.”

I nod my head and start crushing the herbs against a small flat stone. The smell is sharp, ground willowroot and burnleaf. Good for pain. Good for calming.

Around us, the tent is steady chaos. Wolves whisper encouragement to injured family members. Someone groans, low and aching. Every sound weaves together into something too familiar, a memory of Stormfang.

War always smells the same.

When the herbs are ready, I pass them to Liana, and together we press them gently onto the man’s ribs before securing the wrappings. He winces but manages to give us both a grateful nod.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“You are okay,” I answer softly. “Just rest.”

Liana sits back on her heels and wipes her forehead. Her voice is quiet when she says, “I hate this. I hate that it is happening again.”

I don’t have a good answer. So I squeeze her arm once.

Then I look over my shoulder.

Ripley is still with the little boy, finishing the last of the burn cleaning. The boy is breathing easier now, his shoulders less tense, his mother’s eyes a little clearer. Ripley murmurs something gentle to the kid, something that makes the boy blink slow and nod tiredly.

And it hits me again.

We are not just here to help rebuild a pack.

We are preparing for something worse.

The attacks are escalating.

Someone is watching us.

And behind all of this, Nightvein is moving.

My stomach knots.

Liana taps my shoulder, grounding me. “Hey. Are you okay?”

I nod my head, even though I am not sure it is true. “Just… thinking.”

“Don’t,” she mutters. “Not yet. We have got enough to do.”

She is right. There will be time to worry later.

For now, I stand up, roll my shoulders back, and move towards the next cot that needs tending.

Ripley glances up as I cross the tent, and our eyes meet for a moment, steady, reassuring, and warm.

We keep working.

Side by side.

Because right now, that is what we can do.



By the time someone comes looking for us, my hands are aching from scrubbing, wrapping, lifting, whatever the healers need, and my hands is dotted with stains that refuse to wash out no matter how many times I wipe them against my pants.

The tent smells like herbs and pain.

So when a young Stonehowl omega ducks his head inside and calls, “Alpha Callum needs the visitors outside, now,” my pulse drops into a heavy, uneasy rhythm.

Ripley looks up from where he has been helping a healer mix something over a small burner. His eyes meet mine, steady but questioning.

Liana rises first. “Finally,” she mutters under her breath, wiping her hands against her jeans. “I have been waiting for the grown-ups to say something. This cannot just be brushed off.”

She’s right.
None of this feels random.

I nod my head, and we all file out of the tent.

Outside, the sun is dropping low, the sky streaked orange and pink, too beautiful for a day like this. Smoke still curls from broken beams of ruined buildings. The pack members move with purpose, rebuilding, cleaning, comforting. But there is fear under every breath.

We cross the yard to the large half-destroyed building Alpha Callum is using as a temporary meeting space. Ripley walks close beside me, not touching, but close enough that the space between us feels charged.

Inside, Kael is already there with Ezra. They both look exhausted, their clothes dirty, and their faces tense. Kael barely glances up when we enter.

Alpha Callum stands at the front of the room, his posture rigid, and his arms crossed. The weight of leadership clings to him like a second skin. His expression is carved from stone, harder than when we first arrived.

“Good,” he says as soon as the last of us steps in. “You’re here.”

We gather in a semicircle around him. My heart beats faster, like it already knows we are not going to like what he says.

Alpha Callum draws in a long breath before speaking.

“We found tracks,” he says. “Not many, but enough. They confirm what we feared.”
He looks at Kael first, then sweeps his gaze across the rest of us.
“This was Nightvein.”

A cold ripple goes through me.
The name hits harder now than ever.

Ripley’s jaw clenches. Liana inhales sharply. Even Pacey shifts uneasily.

Alpha Callum continues, his voice low but controlled. “This was not a full-scale attack. It was a test. They came in fast, caused damage, and pulled back before my trackers could follow. Clean. Precise.”

Exactly like at Stormfang.

My stomach sinks.

“They are escalating,” Alpha Callum says. “And they are learning. Every time.”

Kael steps forward, his fists tight. “We need to hit back.”

His voice cracks on the last word, just a fraction, and my chest aches for him.

Alpha Callum lifts a hand, not sharply, but enough to steady the room. “There will be a time for that. But right now, you five, no eight, need to understand something.”

We all tense.

“You are targets.”

The silence after those words feels like a living thing, pressing on my ribs, my spine, my breath.

Ripley shifts beside me, his shoulders stiff. “You think they are coming for us specifically.”

“I don’t just think it,” Alpha Callum says. “I know it.”

Liana whispers, “Why?”

Alpha Callum meets her eyes. “Because you’re the next generation. Future alphas, betas. Leaders. Taking out your packs foundations before you inherit them? It cripples your families strength.”

My chest tightens.

He is right.
And I hate how much sense it makes.

Alpha Callum softens his voice, not much, but enough. “Your parents have already been contacted. They are aware. They will be coordinating with each other from this point forward.”

Ripley lets out a slow breath. “So what do we do?”

“For now?” Alpha Callum says. “You finish here. Help us as you have been. Tonight, I will be speaking with the other alphas. Tomorrow morning, you head back to the school.”

Kael tenses. “But...”

“The school is safer for you than here until more is understood,” Alpha Callum interrupts. “If Nightvein wants you, keeping you concentrated and protected is the smartest move.”

I swallow.
The school hasn’t felt entirely safe lately, not with mysterious wolves in the woods, not with Kieran watching us, but I don’t argue.

Alpha Callum’s voice drops lower. “One more thing.”

We straighten.

“Until further notice… do not travel alone. Anywhere.”

A cold shiver crawls up my spine.

The message is clear.

We are being hunted.

And Nightvein is getting closer.