Chapter 10

{Ryanna's POV}

The infirmary reeked of marrow and blood. Jade’s life comes and goes in wheezing breaths, his bandaged chest rising in shallow jerks. I hovered by his cot, fists clenched, my nails biting crescents and crimson in my palms. He’s been unconscious for hours.

Two days, he’d said. Two days until Osiris comes. The healers informed me because I wasn’t around myself calming tensions, yes but it’s no excuse. I haven’t left his side since.

Jade’s eyelids flickered as I leaned in, my shadow falling across his face. His good eye opens, glassy and unfocused. “Ryanna…”

“I’m here.” My voice sounded foreign steady, cold, the voice of a leader. Not the woman who hasn’t eaten or slept, who kept staring at the tent flap, waiting for Casper to stride through it.

He coughed, spittle flecking his cracked lips. “Reinforcements… Osiris is waiting for them. Wolves from the Lycan region… ready to burn our pack to the ground.” His hand claws at the blanket, trembling. “Two days. He killed everyone, letting me escape as a mockery.”

The realization is indeed grim, hearing it from his mouth. I nodded, squeezing his shoulder. “Rest.”

But he grabbed my wrist, his grip shockingly strong. “You can’t run. He’ll hunt us. You know he will.”

Yes. I know Osiris doesn’t take prisoners. Only trophies. I’ve almost died at his hands already, I can imagine how Jade felt.

Outside, the camp thrums with uneasy energy. Wolves sharpen blades, children dart between tents clutching bundles of arrows, their laughter too shrill. I walked past them, my boots crunching gravel. Tyrion’s words loop in my head, brave enough to be vulnerable. But vulnerability tastes like ash now.

Ophelia intercepted me near the firepit, her braids frayed, a smudge of soot on her cheek. “We need to evacuate the children. The elders.”

“And go where?” I snap, sharper than I intended. “The Lycan region? Back to alphas who’d slaughter us for sport? Or deeper into the wilderness, where winter will pick our bones clean?”

She flinched as I regretted it instantly.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Call the council. Now.”

---

They gathered in Tyrion’s hut Ophelia, Adolph, Basten, and Magnus. The best of my men. All capable rogues, bearing immense hatred for the Moonskin pack, for Aurelius and his men.

Adolph slouched against the wall, arms crossed, his scarred jaw twitching. Basten paces, and Magnus? He won’t meet my eyes. Maybe because his sister was amongst the scouts who Jade says are all dead now…

“We fight,” I say as Adolph snorts. “With what? Sticks and prayers?”

“With us.” My gaze swept the room. “We’ve survived worse. We’ve built traps and tunnels. We know this land. They don’t.”

“And when they outnumber us three to one?” Magnus mumbles.

“Then we make them bleed for every step.” Ophelia’s voice cuts even sharper than mine. She steps forward, her stare daring anyone to contradict her. “Ryanna’s right. Running is no different than death. Fighting… The fight is at least a chance!”

Adolph shoves off the wall. “A chance? You’d gamble our children on a chance?”

“They’re already gambling!” The words burst from me, raw and ragged. “Every day we hide, every night we flinch at shadows, that’s the gamble. And it isn’t enough for them. I won’t let fear decide our fate anymore.”

My words were met with silence. Basten stopped pacing. Even Adolph stills.

Tyrion’s scrolls sat in the corner, gathering dust. I thought of his daughter, the words he never got to finish. Don’t end up like me. He still hasn’t uttered a word yet.

“Prepare the defenses,” I said “Rig the eastern ridge with spikes. Flood the southern gully. Anyone who can’t fight, take them to the caves. We hold here. We hold together.”

Night soon fell, and I stood at the edge of the camp, staring into the forest. Somewhere out there, Casper is alone… a part of me hoped he wouldn’t come back before this happened. I would go search for him, but there isn’t enough time and simply too much to do.

I wonder what he’s doing. Is he safe? What if he’s in danger and he needs me? How would he feel knowing his mother chose the pack and her ideals over him? I hated myself even more, Maybe he was right. I am self-centered.

A twig snaps and my pulse leaps but it is only a fox, slinking into the underbrush. I pressed a hand to my chest, where the locket Casper had made me years ago hung, cold and heavy.

“Come back. Please.”

×××

{Casper’s POV}

The old wolf’s words hummed in my skull as I jogged back to camp. The choice to be better. The forest felt quieter now, the rage in my veins cooled to an ember. I’ll apologize to her. To the boy I nearly killed. Maybe even listen when she explains about Aurelius. It’s the least I can do.

The path twisted, familiar roots and rocks guiding me home. For once, I didn't hate the scent of pine and damp earth. It smells like forgiveness. Like a second chance.

But the first tendril of smoke made my wolf stir.

I froze almost like I was second-guessing my senses… It’s too early for campfires. The plumes are too thick. Too acrid.

Something isn’t right… Then I heard the screams.

I was sprinting before I thought. The camp’s gates are splintered. Flames claw at tents like they would through paper. Bodies litter the ground, some moving, most not.

“Mom!”  Tears fell from my eyes. She has to be ok. She has to.

I shove through the chaos, choking on smoke. A child wails near the smithy, trapped beneath a collapsed post. I yank it free, hauling her to safety without stopping. My eyes burn, but not from the ash.

Where is she?

A figure staggers from the smoke as I frantically head to Mom’s hut  Ophelia, her arm bleeding, dragging an unconscious boy. A second passes before the battle-hardened alarm switches to recognition; “Casper! They’re everywhere! They took… ”

Another scream haunting and familiar met my ears.

“MOM!”