Chapter 89 We Have a War to Plan
Damon slowed the suburban as they passed through the main gates of the settlement, the tires crunching softly on the gravel. From the backseat, Elder Thorpe and Elder Horne looked out the windows, their expressions unreadable, but their eyes taking in everything.
The Blackwood territory was thriving. It wasn't just a pack; it was a community in full bloom.
Everywhere they looked, there were signs of a stability that most Alphas only dreamed of. Young pups were chasing each other through the tall grass near the treeline, their joyful yips carrying on the wind. Pregnant women walked in pairs along the paths, their laughter bright and easy. The air smelled of woodsmoke, pine, and contentment.
"Look at this," Damon murmured to Elana, a fierce swell of pride battling the dread in his chest. "New litters. New families. We haven't seen a birth rate like this in two generations."
Elana nodded, her hand resting on his arm. "It's a happy pack, Damon. A stable pack. That’s why they’re growing."
But the sight also tightened the knot in her stomach. This wasn't just a political dispute. This was a war. Vane wasn't just coming for Leela and the twins; he was coming for the very heart of this peace. If he took Caspian and Briar, if he succeeded in breaking the Alpha family, this entire thriving world would shatter.
"He wants to burn it all down," Elana whispered, her eyes hardening. "He sees this life and he hates it because he can't control it."
Damon turned the final corner, the massive timber and stone structure of the main Packhouse coming into view.
"He won't burn anything," Damon vowed. "Not while I have breath."
But as the house came into full view, the defiant atmosphere in the car shattered instantly.
Parked right in front of the porch, nestled between Fennigan’s truck and the Mountain Climber, was a sensible, familiar sedan. It was older, well-maintained, and unmistakably belonged to one person: Magda, the Pack Healer.
Damon slammed on the brakes, the suburban skidding slightly in the gravel.
"Magda?" Elana gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Why is Magda here? She wasn't scheduled until next week."
Panic, cold and sharp, spiked in the retired Alphas' chests. In the wake of the morning's trauma—the lightning, the threats, the terrified race through the woods—the presence of the healer’s car could only mean one thing.
"The stress," Damon choked out, throwing the car into park before it had even fully stopped rolling. "Leela... or Ginny. The babies."
He didn't wait for the Elders. He didn't wait for protocol. He threw his door open and was running up the steps before the engine had even died, his mind filling with worst-case scenarios of miscarriage or magical backlash.
Elana was right behind him, her face pale.
"Magda!" Damon roared as he burst through the front door, the fear of a grandfather overriding the dignity of a retired leader. "Where are they? What happened?"
Damon barely made it three steps into the foyer, his chest heaving, ready to tear the house apart to find his family, when Fennigan stepped out of the living room.
The current Alpha held up both hands, palms out, catching his father by the shoulders before he could barrel into the wall.
"Dad! Dad, stop," Fennigan ordered, his voice calm but firm, cutting through the older wolf’s panic like a knife. "Breathe. Nobody is dying. Nobody is hurt."
Damon stopped, his eyes wide and wild, searching Fennigan’s face for the truth. Elana rushed in behind him, clutching her chest, breathless.
"Magda?" Damon gasped out. "Her car... outside. Why is she here?"
"I called her," Fennigan explained, keeping his grip on his father’s shoulders steady. "I called her the second we got back. After that run through the woods... after the stress with Vane... I wasn't taking any chances. I wanted them checked immediately."
He looked over Damon’s shoulder at his mother.
"It’s just a precaution," Fennigan assured them. "And she’s already finished. Ginny’s blood pressure is a little high, but Magda says it’s just adrenaline. The baby is fine. Jax is with her now, making her drink tea."
Damon let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension leaving his body so fast he almost sagged. "And Leela? The... the new one?"
Fennigan’s expression softened, a genuine, tired smile breaking through his stoic mask. He glanced back toward the living room where Magda was packing up her bag.
"Leela is perfect," Fennigan said, his voice dropping to a murmur of profound relief. "Heartbeat is strong. Everything is right where it should be."
He looked at his parents, and then at Elders Thorpe and Horne, who had quietly entered the hall behind Elana.
"And," Fennigan added, letting out a short, incredulous laugh, "by the luck of the Goddess... there is only one this time."
Elana’s eyes widened, and then she smiled, a tear of relief escaping. "Just one?"
"Just one," Fennigan confirmed, looking like a man who had just dodged a bullet. "Magda double-checked. No hidden twins. No surprise triplets. Just a single, healthy, singular baby."
Damon wiped a hand over his face, laughing weakly.
"Thank the Moon," Damon grunted. "I love those twins, but I don't think my heart could handle another set of double trouble right now."
"But Jax and Ginny are due at the same time so it will be like the same thing." Elana smiled. "They are only a month a part."
Fennigan nodded. "Well it's a mercy for Leela and I for the baby to be one this time. Now, come inside. We have a war to plan, but at least we know the future is secure."