"You have a limp."
When I turned around, I saw Rogan leaned against the doorway with his arms folded and his hawk-like eyes staring at me.
As I attempted to modify the ice pack, I dismissed the pain in my side and answered, "I'm fine."
He pushed off the frame and took a few big steps to get closer to me. "Ava, you just put up a fierce fight outside. Don't pretend you're alright when you're obviously not.
I was about to argue when I looked up at him, but I was stopped by the intensity of his eyes. It was something more tender and unadulterated than rage. Worry.
"I've had worse," I said, turning my head away.
Speaking in a softer tone, he stated, "That's not the point." "There shouldn't have been any fighting between you. Not for this pack, not for me.
Unspoken meaning weighed heavily on his words as they hovered in the air. Something about the way he was staring at me made my chest tighten, even though I wanted to argue and remind him that this was my decision.
I walked passed him to set the ice pack on the counter and remarked, "It's done now." Victor's schemes didn't work out. That's what counts.
"For the time being," Rogan stated in a doubtful tone.
I turned to look at him, feeling irritated. "Don't you think he'll stop?"
After he paused, he nodded. Victor is not a man who accepts loss easily. He will reorganize. And he'll hit harder the next time.
I gazed at him, attempting to comprehend the implications for us. for the group. "Then we'll be prepared," I responded at last.
The smallest of smiles flickered across Rogan's lips. "We?"
"Yes, we," I firmly stated. "Rogan, I meant what I said. Whether you like it or not, I'm with you in this.
After examining me for a while, he let out a sigh. "You're not possible."
I smiled a little and added, "So you've told me."
The ensuing quiet seemed different, less strained, more... at ease. Rogan walked to the window and gazed out into the shadowy woods as I watched. His features took on a silver sheen from the moonlight, and I became aware of his fatigue for the first time.
"You know, you don't have to bear this alone," I whispered.
Although he didn't turn, I could see tension in his shoulders. "I don't think I know how to do it any other way because I've been carrying it alone for so long."
I took a step closer and added, "Then let me teach you."
At last, he looked up at me, his face unreadable. "You mean this seriously, don't you?"
I gave a nod. "Yes, I am."
Although it was brief, I could feel the vulnerability in his eyes, and it broke my heart. "All right," he said softly. "However, don't count on me to be proficient in it."
I said, "I don't expect you to be flawless." "All I ask is that you try."
The days that followed were a blur of planning and preparation. Together, Rogan and I coordinated with his supporters and fortified the pack's defenses. We were genuinely a team for the first time, and I could sense the boundaries between us starting to come down.
However, it wasn't all preparation and strategy. As we rummaged through the study's maps and documents late one evening, Rogan reclined in his chair and massaged his temples.
I stood up to get a cup of tea from the nearby tray and remarked, "You're going to burn yourself out."
I gave him a little laugh when he muttered, "Pot, meet kettle."
Our fingers touched as I gave him the cup. We just stared at one another for a moment, but the spark was instantaneous.
"Ava..." he said in a low voice.
"Don't," I said hastily as I retreated. "Not just yet."
He understood and nodded without asking more questions.
The calm was short-lived.
A scout, with a pale face and a labored breathing pattern, rushed into the study on the fourth day following the challenge.
He said, "Alpha, Luna," referring to both of us. "The western border has been attacked."
I felt sick to my stomach. “Victor?”
The scout hesitated. “We think so, but... there’s something strange. The attackers weren’t from any pack we recognize. They were... different.”
“Different how?” Rogan demanded.
“They moved like shadows,” the scout said, his voice shaking. “And their eyes—they glowed red.”
Rogan and I exchanged a look. This was something new, something we hadn’t prepared for.
“Gather the warriors,” Rogan ordered. “Double the patrols on all borders. And gather out everything you can about these attackers.”
The scout nodded and ran off, leaving us alone again.
“This changes everything,” Rogan remarked, his voice gloomy.
I gave a nod. “Victor’s not working alone anymore.”
“No,” Rogan agreed. “And whoever he’s teamed up with is far more dangerous than we anticipated.”
As the days stretched into weeks, the attacks mounted. Each time, the shadowy creatures struck with precision, attacking our weakest places and vanishing before we could catch them. The pack was on edge, and trust was in short supply.
But through it all, Rogan and I grew closer. We battled side by side, not just in battle but in every decision, every plan. And eventually, I began to see the guy beneath the title of Alpha—the man who was as strong as he was weak, as furious as he was gentle.
One night, as we stood on the balcony overlooking the pack lands, Rogan turned to me. “I never thought I’d say this,” he added, his voice sad, “but I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through this without you.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I responded, beaming up at him.
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I, Ava..."
A howl in the distance pierced the night before he could finish, chilling me.
Rogan's face darkened as he replied, "That's the northern patrol." "Something is not right."
With our hearts racing, we hurried to the northern border. The situation was in disarray when we got there. The smell of blood and dread filled the air, and several warriors were hurt.
"What took place?" Rogan insisted.
One of the fighters stumbled forward, holding on to his side. He exclaimed, "They took them."
"Who took it?" With my heart pounding, I inquired.
He continued, his voice cracking, "The pups." "The pups were taken."
Rogan's expression darkened, and I had an unheard-of wave of rage. These attackers, whoever they were, had gone too far.
With unwavering resolve in his voice, Rogan declared, "We'll get them back."
I took a firm hold of his hand and nodded. "With each other."
However, a terrifying thought began to creep into my head as we turned to rally the herd.
What if there was more to this than retaliation or power?
What if the assailants desired more?