Chapter 38
Chapter 38
Chapter: The War of the Cold Blood
The echo of boots resounded through the war hall as Kilian took the letter in his hands. The broken seal already revealed the emblem of the Cold Bloods, the bandit pack led by Jackson and Dylan. His alpha eyes, usually tempered and calculating, burned with fury as he read aloud the words steeped in threat.
—“Luciana,” —he growled, repeating the name written in the letter, that name Abigaíl had carried in her past life—. That bastard dares to call you by a name that no longer belongs to you.
Abigaíl, standing beside the council table, felt a shiver run down her spine. She had left that past behind, had buried Luciana, but Jackson seemed determined to drag her back into the light, to claim a story that had never been his.
Kilian clenched his teeth, crumpling the paper until it cracked within his fists.
—It says that if we don’t agree to meet and discuss terms of truce… war will be unleashed.
—And what do you plan to do, Kilian? —asked one of the commanders at the council—. The Cold Bloods have already attacked minor villages along the border. These are not just threats.
—What I’ll do is what I’ve always done —he answered, his voice low yet heavy with fury—. Protect my people. Protect my Luna. I will not hand over my queen, much less now that she carries our child.
His words made Abigaíl tremble with emotion. And they shocked everyone present… for no one yet knew that Abigaíl was pregnant.
She let her hand rest on her still barely visible belly, reminding herself she wasn’t alone in this battle. Kilian wasn’t only defending a kingdom, he was defending his family.
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The Beginning of War
It didn’t take long before threats turned into deeds. The Cold Bloods, together with the remnants of the renegade Grays, began cutting off the roads. Supply caravans were ambushed; villagers were forced to surrender harvests, horses, even children to be used as human shields. The kingdom began to feel the pressure of hunger, and whispers of fear spread like a plague.
In the war council, a messenger stumbled in, panting, his clothes stained with mud and blood.
—Alpha! —he bowed—. The Cold Bloods have taken the Ravel bridge. Without it, we can’t bring grain from the eastern villages.
—Damn them! —roared Kilian, slamming the oak table so hard the wood splintered—. If they think they’ll starve us into surrender, they don’t know me.
Abigaíl stepped forward, her clear voice breaking through the murmurs of the generals.
—I will take care of the families, Kilian. Women and children will be under my protection in the fortress. If you march to the front, someone must keep hope alive here inside.
He looked at her with a mix of pride and worry.
—I don’t want you in danger.
—And I don’t want you in danger either —she replied firmly—. But we both know there’s no other choice. We are alpha and luna. You face the war outside, I hold the kingdom within.
Kilian stepped closer, cradling her face with tenderness despite the torment inside him. His lips found hers in a kiss heavy with promise, as if that moment could be their last.
—I will return, my love. I will return to you and to our child.
—And I will wait for you —whispered Abigaíl—. Come back alive, Kilian.
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The Clash of Armies
At dawn, the roar of drums announced the march of the kingdom’s army. Thousands of armored wolves advanced behind their alpha. The black and silver banners fluttered, a stark contrast against the mist covering the field.
The Cold Bloods awaited on the hills, their army disorganized but savage. Jackson had gathered mercenaries, renegades, and traitors; most fought for plunder and blood, not honor. At his side, one of his followers wielded two axes, laughing with a glint of madness in his eyes.
The clash was brutal. The front lines crashed with the force of a storm. Steel against steel, fangs against claws, war howls mingled with the screams of the dying.
Kilian charged forward, his imposing figure striking as much fear as respect. His movements were precise, every enemy who stood in his way fell without mercy. His roar tore across the field, filling his warriors with valor.
Meanwhile, in the fortress, Abigaíl organized shelters, distributed rations, and kept the little ones safe. Her presence alone calmed the most terrified.
—Everything will be alright —she whispered, caressing the head of a crying child—. The alpha will return victorious. We will endure.
The fortress became a bastion of faith.
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The Turn of Battle
The renegade Grays—cowardly wolves who had joined Jackson’s cause only out of greed—began to falter. They saw how Kilian would not retreat, how his fury was relentless. At one point, a desperate cry echoed through their ranks:
—Retreat! We’re lost!
Desertion began. Entire packs fled in panic, trying to escape the slaughter. Kilian pursued them, making sure no shadow of betrayal remained that could rise again.
—No one mocks my kingdom and lives to tell the tale! —he shouted, striking down the last Gray who tried to flee.
Kilian’s men cheered, but the war was far from over. The Cold Bloods would not yield.
Jackson refused to fall.
At the heart of the battlefield, Jackson stood firm, his figure drenched in blood that was not his own. His eyes locked onto Kilian’s figure, a twisted smile carved across his face.
—I will not retreat —he muttered, raising his bloodstained sword—. Not until I take what belongs to me. Not until I tear that woman from your arms.
One of his men murmured at his side.
—Alpha, that northern alpha fights as if hell itself fuels him.
—Then we must be hell itself —Jackson answered, tightening his iron gloves—. Luciana will be mine.
Kilian pushed forward through the fallen, his breath heavy but his spirit unbroken. In the distance, he saw him. Jackson stood waiting in the middle of the field, as if everything had been nothing more than a prelude to this instant.
The two armies pulled back, opening a circle of expectant silence. It was the moment they had all awaited: the clash of the alphas.
Jackson grinned, baring his fangs.
—At last, Kilian. So much blood spilled, and in the end, it all comes down to us.
—This was never about war —Kilian growled—. Only about your sick ambition.
—You don’t understand —Jackson laughed, his eyes blazing with rage—. She belongs to me. “Luciana” was mine before she was yours.
Kilian felt fire surge through his veins.
—Don’t call her that —his voice thundered low—. Her name is Abigaíl. She is my Luna. She is the mother of my child. And no one, neither you nor your filthy pack of rats, will ever take her from me.
Jackson roared with fury upon learning Abigaíl was pregnant, but even so, he hurled himself with all his strength at Kilian.
Kilian met him, and the crash of their clash shook the battlefield like thunder.
The warriors held their breath. The kingdom’s fate would be decided in that duel.
Steel against steel, fangs and claws collided. The earth itself seemed to tremble under the weight of their battle.
The war had culminated in that moment, in that clash of titans.