Chapter 93 The Call to War
[Nyx]
Seven forty-five sharp. The main house dining room felt cavernous with only five people at the long table.
Karl sat at the head in a dark gray shirt, expression grave. Isla was to his right in a cream suit, makeup perfect. Tristan was already seated, scrolling through something on his phone.
Three pairs of eyes lifted as Lysander and I entered.
We'd barely taken our seats when Isla's nostrils flared. Her keen Luna senses picked up what soap and fresh clothes couldn't completely hide—the lingering pheromone traces from our heat.
Her lips curved into a razor-thin smile. "You two seem... well-rested."
The air thickened with awkward tension.
"The entire west wing reeked yesterday evening," Isla continued, her sweet voice cutting like glass. "I could smell it from the gardens. The Alpha's daughter, so utterly... unrestrained."
She took a delicate sip of coffee. "How enlightening."
Heat crawled up my neck, but I met her gaze steadily. "Heat is a biological function, Luna. Or did you forget how Tristan came into existence? Did he emerge from a stone?"
Isla's face went white, then red.
"Enough." Karl's voice cut through the tension. He turned to Isla, tone measured but firm. "When Lilith was buried in that avalanche and you were here waiting for news, it was Nyx who went into the blizzard to find her."
Isla's mouth tightened.
He picked up his coffee cup calmly. "This isn't appropriate breakfast conversation. Let's move on."
The table fell silent. Isla looked down at her plate, jaw clenched.
But Tristan set down his fork with a cold laugh. "Actually, Father's right. There are far more serious matters to discuss than my sister's... recreational activities."
He turned to me, eyes glinting with malice. "Tell me, Nyx—do you know what happened at the northern border over the past forty-eight hours?"
My stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"
"Outpost Three was attacked by human militants forty-eight hours ago. Three warriors critically injured. The outpost fell." Tristan's voice hardened. "This is the first armed human assault on werewolf territory in nearly a century."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"And while our border guards were bleeding to defend pack lands, the Alpha's eldest daughter was in bed. Completely unreachable. Completely unconcerned with pack security."
My mind reeled. Humans? The exiled, the rejected, the ones who'd lost their wolves and been banished to the outer islands—they'd attacked us?
How? Why?
"Father, this is the heir you once wanted to groom?" Tristan's lip curled. "No sense of duty. No responsibility. Thank the Moon you changed your mind."
The words hit like physical blows. But I forced myself to breathe, to think past the shame and shock.
"You're right, Tristan." My voice came out steady. "I was disconnected during heat. That's biology, not choice."
I met his eyes. "But what about you? Where were you these past forty-eight hours? Did you coordinate reinforcements? Organize supplies? Arrange medical evacuation?"
Silence.
"Because from where I'm sitting, you've been here eating breakfast and waiting for the perfect moment to attack me." I leaned forward. "I have a biological excuse for being unreachable. What's yours?"
Tristan's jaw clenched.
"Enough!" Karl raised one hand. "Pointing fingers solves nothing."
He looked at me with that complicated expression I'd seen before—disappointment mixed with something almost like regret. "Nyx, you need to be more aware."
Then he turned to Tristan. "And you need to stop being vindictive."
Both sides reprimanded. Classic Karl.
He set down his coffee cup, voice returning to Alpha authority. "The border situation requires action, not breakfast arguments." His gaze shifted to Lysander and me. "Both of you—my study. After breakfast."
Not a request. A command.
---
Ten minutes later, Karl's private study. Just the three of us—Isla and Tristan had been left outside.
Karl stood by the window, back to us. "Lysander, you heard the basics at breakfast. But there are details you don't know yet."
He turned, picking up a report from his desk. "Outpost Three detected human militant activity seventy-two hours ago. It escalated to invasion forty-eight hours ago. Full combat engagement thirty-six hours ago."
"Three warriors critically wounded—silver armor-piercing rounds and thermal weapons. The enemy is well-equipped, professionally trained, and had specific targets."
Karl's voice dropped to ice. "This wasn't random. This was organized military action. And they knew our weaknesses. Knew our outpost locations."
Intelligence leak.
"Lysander." Karl's eyes locked on him. "I need you to lead Gamma Squad One. Depart at eighteen hundred hours today."
"Mission: Retake Outpost Three. Identify the source of human militants. Restore border security within forty-eight hours."
Lysander dropped to one knee immediately. "Alpha above, I obey."
"One more thing." Karl's expression turned dangerous.
"If you encounter human militants—kill on sight. No prisoners. No mercy. They dared attack werewolf territory. They pay the price."
The harsh command hung in the air. This wasn't just border defense—this was declaration of total war.
Karl turned to me. "Your husband is going to battle."
A test. Would I object? Beg him to rescind the order? Show weakness?
I felt Lysander's determination through our bond. This was his duty. His purpose. He wouldn't refuse.
If I tried to stop him, I'd only prove Tristan's accusations right.
I lifted my chin, meeting Karl's gaze. "Lysander is Moonblade's finest Gamma. I trust he'll defend our borders and complete his mission."
I straightened my shoulders. "As his wife, I'll provide full support. Whatever resources are needed—funding, supplies, intelligence—I'll ensure he has them."
Something flickered in Karl's eyes. Surprise, then... approval?
"Good."
---
Ten AM. West wing study. Lysander was at the barracks preparing for deployment.
I stared at my laptop screen, scrolling through those 147 messages.
Alexander's urgent email sat at the top:
"Chairman, emergency situation! NorthStar's Apex enhancer has captured 23% market share in the past forty-eight hours. Our Lunar series sales have plummeted 41%.
Worse—their pricing strategy is aggressively predatory. This isn't normal competition.
The board is demanding an emergency meeting. Some directors are suggesting we negotiate with NorthStar.
You must respond immediately."
My fingers tightened on the mouse. Two days. I'd lost the crucial window to counter-attack during heat.
I grabbed my phone and dialed Alexander. "Assemble the core team. Tonight, nineteen hundred hours. Strategy meeting."
"I need Dr. Mitchell's complete analysis of Apex."
"I need Legal tracking Raymond's money trail."
"I need every piece of intelligence on NorthStar."
Alexander sounded stunned. "You're counter-attacking? But the board—"
"The board answers to me, not the other way around." My voice went cold. "This is my mother's company. Anyone who wants to take it will pay the price."