Chapter 68: The First Strike
Mariana’s POV
The night was restless.
Even in the safety of the pack’s heart, I could feel the tension running through its veins. Warriors trained harder, their blows striking with more force. Scouts left in silence, their return awaited with bated breath. Every whispered conversation carried the weight of uncertainty.
We were ready for war. But war was never just about weapons and bloodshed. It was about patience. About control.
And right now, control was slipping through our fingers.
I stood at the castle’s balcony, looking out at the flickering torches that lined the village. The people were afraid. They wouldn’t say it outright, but I could see it in the way mothers held their children a little closer, in the way the elderly whispered among themselves. They had lived through Marion’s rule. They knew what it meant to have a shadow looming over us.
Behind me, the doors opened with a quiet creak. I didn’t turn, already sensing who it was.
Alexander’s presence was as heavy as my thoughts. “Scouts returned,” he said, his voice even, but I could hear the tension beneath it.
I turned to face him fully. “And?”
His jaw tightened. “Movement along the eastern border again. More than before. They’re not waiting anymore.”
My stomach twisted. “Do we know who they are?”
He shook his head. “No. But they’re getting bolder. Our patrol was attacked before they could return.”
I stiffened. “Casualties?”
“Two injured, one dead.” His expression darkened. “And still no clear message. No name. No demands. Just blood.”
A cold dread settled over me. A war without an enemy’s face was more dangerous than any open battle.
“What do we do?” I asked.
Alexander’s silence was heavy. Finally, he exhaled. “We strike first.”
The council was gathered once more, but this time, there were no arguments. No debates. Only grim acceptance.
Eva leaned over the map table, her fingers tracing the eastern ridge. “They’re not waiting in one place. They move in small numbers, but they’re coordinated. That means they have a leader.”
“Then we flush them out,” Alexander said.
Garrick folded his arms. “You’re suggesting an ambush?”
“A calculated strike,” Alexander corrected. “If they won’t reveal themselves, we make them.”
A murmur of agreement spread through the room.
I straightened. “We need to be careful. If they’re expecting retaliation, they might be ready for it.”
Alexander nodded. “We don’t send an army. Just a small, skilled unit. In and out before they know what hit them.”
Eva smirked. “Sounds like my kind of mission.”
A plan formed quickly. By the time the meeting ended, a group of elite warriors had been chosen. Alexander, Eva, and a handful of our best fighters would leave before dawn.
As the others filtered out, I stayed behind. Alexander lingered too, his fingers pressed against the edge of the table.
“You should rest,” I told him.
“So should you.”
Neither of us moved.
I swallowed hard. “Be careful.”
His gaze softened, just slightly. “Always.”
But we both knew that in war, there were no guarantees.
The forest was deathly silent.
The team moved like shadows, their footsteps barely rustling the fallen leaves. The moon cast pale light through the trees, illuminating the tension in every movement.
Alexander led at the front, Eva close behind. Their senses were sharp, every breath measured.
Then, a sound. A branch snapping.
They froze.
A flicker of movement in the darkness—too fast, too deliberate.
And then, all at once, the shadows came alive.
An ambush.
Steel clashed against steel. Snarls ripped through the air. Figures darted between the trees, too swift to be ordinary wolves.
Alexander’s instincts took over. He drove forward, his blade catching the glow of the moon as he struck down an attacker. Eva moved like a ghost, her daggers flashing as she weaved between enemies.
But these weren’t rogues.
They were trained. Coordinated.
And they had been waiting.
A realization struck Alexander like a blow. We weren’t hunting them.
They were hunting us.
The battle had begun.