The war hall of was thick with tension. The scent of blood and smoke from the previous night’s attack still clung to the air like a warning. The council chamber, built from dark stone was filled with the growls and heated voices of Draven’s most trusted wolves. The long wooden table in the center of the room bore maps, reports, and bloodstained weapons from the fallen warriors of their pack.
Eryx, standing at Draven’s right, leaned over the table, fists clenched, his hazel eyes burning with fury. “This was an act of war,” he growled, his voice cold and unforgiving. “We lost good Lycans last night. Our people deserve vengeance. We should retaliate immediately,” he added, his expression dark. “We cannot sit back and allow the vampires to think they can strike at us without consequence.”
Across from them, Diana sat with her arms crossed, her piercing gaze locked onto Draven. “The council demands action, Draven,” she said sharply. “We were ambushed—again. It was planned. Organized. We need to answer with blood.”
Valkyrie, who had been silent until now, let out a frustrated scoff. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been attacked, but it should be the last.” She turned to Draven, her expression unreadable. “We need to remind the vampires why the Lycans have ruled the battlefield for centuries.”
The tension in the room crackled like a storm about to break. Every eye was on Draven, waiting for his command, for the rage-filled order to march into vampire territory and burn their cities to the ground.
But instead, Draven slowly leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the armrest. The weight of his authority silenced the growling voices around him.
“No.”
A stunned silence followed his single-word command.
The council frowned. “No?”
Draven’s brown eyes flicked to him, dark and resolute. “In a fortnight, I will be traveling to Stoneheart.”
The council exchanged confused glances.
“Stoneheart? Why?”
Draven sat forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Ronan and I are calling a meeting of the Alphas of the other Lycan packs. We need to unify our forces before this war spirals beyond our control.”
At that, the atmosphere in the chamber shifted. The murmurs of frustration gave way to something else—understanding. The council members, though still fuming from the attack, seemed to realize the weight of Draven’s decision.
Eryx was the first to nod in approval. “A united Lycan front,” he muttered. “We haven’t seen that since the Great War.”
“The vampires won’t stand a chance,” a warrior said, a smirk creeping onto his face.
Diana, however, remained unmoved. She was watching Draven carefully, her eyes narrowed. When the council was dismissed, she remained seated, waiting until the hall emptied.
As the heavy doors shut behind the last of the council members, she finally spoke. “You’re making a mistake.”
Draven exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. “Not now, Diana.”
“Oh, I think now is the perfect time,” she shot back. “You still believe Valerion wouldn’t be behind this, don’t you?”
Draven lifted his gaze to meet hers, his expression hardening. “He has no reason to. We agreed to a truce. Azrael is my mate.”
Diana let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “You really are gullible, aren’t you?” She leaned forward, placing her palms flat on the table. “Draven, wake up. Do you honestly believe Valerion—the most ruthless vampire king to ever exist—would honor a truce just because of a mate bond?”
Draven clenched his jaw, unwilling to entertain the thought.
Diana smirked at his silence. “Exactly.” She straightened, arms crossing over her chest. “Valerion is orchestrating this war. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one spearheading it.”
Draven’s fists tightened, his nails digging into his palms. His mind was at war with itself. His instincts told him Diana was wrong—that there was more to this attack than what was on the surface. But a part of him, however small, whispered that she could be right.
Valerion was ruthless. And the timing of the attack was… convenient.
Diana watched the storm of emotions flicker across his face. “You can keep denying it all you want,” she said, “but sooner or later, you’ll see the truth.”
With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the hall, leaving Draven alone with his thoughts.
And for the first time since the attack, doubt began to creep in.
After Diana left, Draven remained in the council chamber, staring at the massive war table before him. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the room, mirroring the unease settling in his chest. His thoughts were a storm, swirling with everything that had been said.
The doors creaked open behind him.
Cyrus stepped inside, his green eyes sharp, scanning the room as if checking for eavesdroppers. The Beta had remained quiet during the earlier discussion, but now, as the hall stood empty, he approached Draven with a knowing look.
“You’re troubled,” Cyrus said, his voice calm yet observant.
Draven exhaled through his nose. “Of course I am.”
Cyrus leaned against the edge of the table, arms crossed. “I think… something about this attack doesn’t add up.”
Draven narrowed his eyes. “I do too.”
Cyrus sighed, rubbing his jaw. “The way they struck—silent, coordinated, precise. These weren’t rogue vampires acting on their own. It was planned.” His expression darkened. “And we both know Valerion is a master at planning.”
Draven tensed, his hands pressing into the wood. “But why? What does he gain from breaking the truce?”
Cyrus hesitated before answering, his voice measured. “Chaos. Uncertainty. Maybe even a reason to turn Azrael against us. Valerion is unpredictable, Draven. He plays the long game.”
Draven’s jaw clenched. His mind was at war with itself. He wanted to believe Valerion wouldn’t risk throwing Azrael into a war that could destroy her, but logic whispered otherwise.
And then another thought struck him.
“What does Azrael think about all of this?” His voice was quieter now, laced with something he rarely let others hear—concern. “Why hasn’t she reached out? It's been a while since I sent out that letter.”
Cyrus exhaled slowly. “Maybe Valerion is stopping her.”
Draven’s eyes flickered with something dangerous. “Or maybe she doesn’t care.”
Cyrus frowned. “You don’t believe that.”
Draven turned away, bracing his hands against the table, staring at the maps and war plans spread before him. “It’s been days, Cyrus. No word. No sign. If she wanted to reach me, she would have found a way.”
Cyrus studied him for a moment before shaking his head. “Something isn’t right. You know it as well as I do.”
Draven remained silent. He wasn't sure of his mate’s whereabouts or what was on her mind.
And war… another great war, is on the horizon.