Chapter 88 BLOOD BEFORE DAWN
DEREK’S POV
I woke up before morning with my head already full of plans and worries. War was coming, and I could feel it in my bones. The Spirit Pack had crossed a line they could never step back from, and now every choice I made would decide who lived and who died.
I pulled myself out of bed and dressed in silence, thinking of maps, borders, and names of wolves I trusted and those I did not.
By the time I reached the war room, Damien was already there. He stood over the long table, hands flat on the surface, eyes locked on the map spread out before him. He looked tired, but steady. He always did. Seeing him there grounded me more than he knew.
“You didn’t sleep,” he said without looking up.
“Neither did you,” I replied.
He shrugged. “Sleep can wait but survival can’t.”
I nodded and stepped closer. The map showed every trail, river, and old boundary between us and the Spirit Pack. I had ordered scouts to walk each path twice, sometimes three times. I trusted information more than strength. Strength failed when information was wrong.
“We can’t rush this,” I said. “They want us to be angry and they want mistakes.”
Damien finally looked at me. “Then we give them nothing.”
That was why he was my beta. He understood without long speeches. We started listing names, pack members who would stay behind to guard the young and the injured, and those who would move with us. Every name felt heavy, I knew their families and their faces. Sending them into a fight was not a game.
As the sun rose, more wolves filtered in. The room filled with low voices and tension. I gave clear orders, nothing dramatic, nothing loud. Panic spreads faster than truth. I reminded them of routes, signals, and rules. No one moved alone. No one chased too far. If something felt wrong, they pulled back.
Later, Damien and I stepped outside for air. The camp was alive with movement. Weapons were being checked, bags packed, horses prepared. It looked organized, but I knew how fast order could turn into chaos.
“You’re carrying this alone,” Damien said quietly.
“I’m alpha,” I answered. “That’s how it works.”
He shook his head. “You don’t have to shut me out to lead.”
I met his eyes then. “I’m not shutting you out. I’m just trying not to let fear show.”
He gave a short smile. “Too late because see it but that’s not a weakness.”
We walked in silence for a moment. The truth was simple. I was scared. Not of fighting, but of failing. If I misjudged the Spirit Pack, if I trusted the wrong wolf, everything could collapse. They were known for tricks, for turning allies against each other, for making war messy and personal.
Back inside, a scout reported unusual movement near the eastern woods. Nothing confirmed, but enough to raise concern. I felt my jaw tighten. This was how it started, first it was small signals and quiet warnings.
“We adjust the patrols,” I said. “Double the eastern watch. No confrontations unless necessary.”
Damien backed me up immediately. “And rotate guards often. No exhaustion.”
Hours passed like that, decision after decision. Food supplies and medical stations. They were all fallback points. We planned for victory, but also for retreat. Pride had no place here, only survival did.
As night approached, Damien and I sat again, just the two of us. The room was empty now, the map rolled up. For a moment, it felt like old times, before politics and blood debts.
“If this turns on us,” I said, “if they manage to twist things, the council will come down hard.”
“They already don’t trust us,” Damien replied.
“That won’t change. What matters is keeping our people alive.”
I leaned back and rubbed my face. “Sometimes I hate this role.”
He let out a quiet laugh. “Good. If you loved it, I’d worry.”
Before we parted, I clasped his forearm. “Stay close tomorrow.”
“I always do,” he said.
That night, alone again, I went over everything in my head. Every warning, every sign. War was never clean. No matter how careful we were, blood would be spilled but I promised myself this. I would leave no stone unturned. I would question every report, check every path, and listen to my beta even when pride told me not to.
When morning came, I stood before my pack, steady on the outside, storm on the inside. I spoke plainly.
“We move with care and we fight only when needed, we also protect each other. The Spirit Pack thinks we are reckless and we will prove them wrong.”
As they answered me with firm voices and hard eyes, I knew the risk was real. One wrong move, and everything could turn back on us faster than we could imagine but with Damien at my side and my mind clear, I was ready to face whatever came next.
After the meeting, I walked the outer line myself. I wanted to see faces, not reports. Some wolves tried to hide their nerves. Others looked eager, almost too eager. I stopped and spoke to them, reminding them this was not about glory. It was about coming home. A young fighter asked me if we would win. I told him we would do our best, and that honesty mattered more than promises.
Damien joined me again near the gate. “Scouts are back,” he said. “Nothing clear yet.”
“Nothing clear is still something,” I replied.
We stood there, watching the road disappear into the dark. I thought about how fast peace could break, and how slow it was to rebuild. I tightened my grip on my weapon and took a slow breath. Tomorrow, the first move would be made, and there would be no turning back for any of us.
I whispered a quiet order to myself, stay sharp, stay human, trust Damien, trust the plan, and never forget why we fight, even when the cost feels too high and dawn is
already close.
THE FIRST STRIKE