Chapter 124 Not humans

Chapter 124 Fight
EVANDER POV
I am pulled from a shallow, fitful slumber by a frantic, double-rhythmic thumping against our chamber door. It is not the measured, disciplined cadence of a guard. It is erratic, desperate, and unmistakably Kade.

The transition from the depths of sleep to the sharp reality of survival is rarely a smooth one.
My eyes snap open, the darkness of the room pressing in, punctuated only by the faint, rhythmic rise and fall of Zephyra’s chest beside me.
She stirs, her instincts sharp even in sleep; her hand darts out, one palm grounding itself against the warmth of her belly, the other seeking the curve of my shoulder to anchor her to the waking world.
I am out of the bed before she fully blinks away the remnants of her dreams.
I press a finger to my lips, a silent plea for her to remain where it is safe, and move to the door. I open it just enough to slip through, pulling it shut behind me.
Kade stands there, his forehead slick with a sheen of cold sweat, his breathing ragged and shallow as if he has sprinted the length of the estate without drawing a full breath.
"Alpha," he wheezes, his voice cracking against the heavy oak.
"We have a lead. The location of the kidnapping hub. It’s the old mines in the North. They’re moving the captives now."
The gravity of the news anchors me. My heart shifts from the lethargy of rest into the cold, hard engine of the Alpha. I glance back at the door behind which my wife lies: my Queen, my mate, the carrier of our future.
"Get Naville. Bring my tactical gear to the loading bay," I command, my voice low and devoid of hesitation.
I watch him signal into his comms as we step out into the dawning day. It is barely three in the morning, the sky a bruised purple, the air biting and thin with the scent of pine and impending violence.

"What’s the estimate of vehicles used to transport the captives?" I ask, my boots crunching against the gravel as I stride toward the center of the yard.
"Four," Naville’s voice drifts from the shadows behind me. She is already moving, her hands busy checking the straps of her own weaponry, her eyes scanning the horizon with a witch’s foresight.
"How many warriors are available?"
"Three hundred and ninety-six wolves," Ronah reports, appearing at my left flank, his posture rigid.

"One hundred and two humans. They are already stationed at the front of the pack house."
They are our people—loyal, blood-bound, and hardened by the three months of hell we have endured since this hunt began. We have lost too many of the palace’s hollow soldiers; these are the ones who will stand until their lungs give out.
"Is everyone ready?" Ronah bellows to the crowd, his voice carrying over the yard.
"ALWAYS!"
The response is a singular, thundering roar that vibrates in my marrow. I nod, my gaze sweeping over the sea of faces. I pull on my tactical vest, the plates cold against my skin, the straps pulling tight. Beneath the gear, my wolf is pacing—a restless, predatory force clawing at the bars of my human restraint, sensing the metallic tang of blood before a single drop has been spilled.
"Let’s go."
We move toward the vehicles, the engines roaring to life like chained beasts. But as the lead transport idles, a ripple of unease passes through the front line. One of the soldiers breathes out, a sharp, ragged sound, and points toward the perimeter fence.
"Is that...?" Naville drawls, her hand instinctively drifting to the hilt of her blade.
The gates are breached: not by enemies, but by the crisp, polished lines of Royal guards and soldiers. They storm forward in a phalanx of over a hundred, their silver-etched armor catching the weak, predawn light. Their leader moves with the grace of a predator, his white beard neatly trimmed, his eyes cold and calculating.
"Alpha Fineasta," I acknowledge, my voice like grinding stones.
"Alpha Evander," he counters, stopping just short of my personal space.
"May I ask what’s going on?"
"I should be asking you that," Fineasta sneers, his gaze flicking to the unconventional mix of wolves and human mercenaries behind me.
"You’re fighting a Royal war with personal warriors. It is unorthodox. It is dangerous."
"It’s efficient," I snap.
"We’ve lost enough Royal guards already. I won’t lose any more."
Fineasta steps closer, the air around him thickening with the scent of ozone and arrogance.
"Your wife isn’t just your wife, Alpha. She is our King. Our Ruler. Her decisions must be made within the confines of the Royal reserves. Not via private militias."
I feel the familiar heat of anger flare, but I keep my focus sharp. This was Zephyra’s appointment, this advisor, and now it feels like a tether around our necks.

"So, if more Royal soldiers are slaughtered, she wouldn 't be held responsible?" I ask, my voice deceptively calm.
"That is the weight of the crown," he says, his eyes narrowing.
"She isn’t meant to carry the beauty and ignore the thorns."
He turns, his gaze sweeping over my people.
"Omega Kade. Warrior Ronah. Witch Naville. I believe you are all of Royal standing. You understand the protocol."
The tension is a physical weight, ready to snap, when a sudden, sickening stench fills the air—the smell of rotting meat and sulfur.
"We’re under attack!" a soldier shrieks.
The world fractures. With a sound like thunder, the stone walls surrounding the pack house explode inward. Debris showers the yard. Steel rings against steel as the air fills with the chaotic symphony of war. I unsheathe my blade, the metal singing, and engage the first wave of attackers.
Fineasta shifts instantly, his massive frame surging forward, his jaws snapping as he tackles a group of attackers pouring through the breach.
"Ahhhhh!"
The scream is human, but the source is a nightmare. I spin, my heart seizing. A human,or what looks like one, is buried deep in the neck of one of my soldiers, its eyes glowing with a pulsating, unnatural red.
I don't hesitate. I lift my hand, channeling the heat of my wolf, and unleash a torrent of flame directly into the creature's face. It screeches, a sound devoid of humanity, and releases its prey. Kade drags the wounded soldier back, but he is already slumping, his lifeblood pooling in the dirt.

"How is that possible?" Ronah yells, his voice desperate.
"How is a human able to bite down a wolf?"