Chapter 14

{Casper’s Pov}

From where we crouched, the woods offered us cover and a vantage point. I watched the decoy team sneak from the shadows with terrifying precision. Just over twenty wolves. Coordinated with no words. Just nods and silent steps.

The elders who served with Tyrion moved with a grace that made me reevaluate myself. Fluid, focused. The youngest among them, a lanky grey-coated wolf named Vann, scaled a low outcrop near the eastern edge and gave a sharp whistle.

They were positioned when chaos broke like a dam.

Explosions of noise, firelight, and motion burst through Osiris' eastern camp’s exit. The traps we set earlier oil-soaked logs rigged with tripwires caught three of their guards off-guard… ironic as that might sound, slamming them into the undergrowth with painful force. Their screams alerted more.

Ophelia crouched beside me and smirked behind her mask. "That one's for Tyrion."

"All of it is," I said.

More commotion erupted. From my perch behind the fallen log, I watched the plan unfold. Osiris’s wolves poured from the encampment like hornets from a disturbed hive, rushing eastward. Just as we hoped. Proud, overconfident, and ready to hurt us for our “brazen” attempt at retaliation. Their formation was sloppy, frantic at best.

One of Tyrion’s loyalists hurled a torch into a dry brush line, and the flames lit instantly. The wolves hesitated. And that hesitation, that single moment of confusion, gave us our opening.

“Then, from the trees, emerged a taller silhouette. As it morphed into its wolf”.

Broad-shouldered, wrapped in jagged leathers, Pale gray mane braided tight.

"Osiris?" Ophelia whispered.

I nodded slowly, eyes fixed. The way the wolves shifted around him confirmed it. He was no grunt. He didn’t run. He followed the trail of destruction caused by the decoy team.

"That’s our cue," I muttered.

My team moved with urgency and calculated speed. We rounded the perimeter, boots sinking in wet moss, cloaked in mud and night. The back end of the camp was poorly guarded now, the eastern ruckus pulling most of their forces away, exactly as we planned.

“Magnus led us to the rear ridge where broken fencing marked what used to be a livestock pen. Easy entry point”.

"Stay low," I ordered. As we slipped through, still unnoticed.

The camp’s interior was better fortified than I imagined. Just what had we done to warrant such a reaction from the Alpha?

“Makeshift cages, shackled poles, smoke-charred weapons stacked by the hundreds. These weren’t just raiders. They were preparing for all-out carnage”.

In one of the cages, four figures stirred. Showing signs of being malnourished. All the while bloodied… but alive.

"That’s Jade’s team," Ophelia whispered, rushing forward. Magnus picked the lock with surprising ease.

"Brother?" one of the captives croaked. A woman, skin taut over high cheekbones, eyes wide.

He almost fainted when he locked eyes with her. The relief was extensive as he reached out to hold her “Sister!”

She nearly broke down into tears, but her body didn’t have enough water for that now. Just what did they do to put a capable soldier in this condition?

It was wholesome to see Magnus this soft, but there was no time. So I asked; "You happen to know where they have my mother?"

She pointed to a stone tent on the other side of the camp. "I’m not sure, but when she was brought here, she was held in the second reinforced structure. I could hear her screams."

I felt that familiar rage boil up in me once more, and my wolf claws to be released. I didn’t wait already rushing in her direction as Ophelia reached for my arm. "We go with you."

"No, free the rest, prep an exit. I can do this." Her eyes argued, but her nod agreed.

“I crossed the camp alone, claws extended. The stone tent loomed ahead, thick fabric acting as a crude door. I slipped inside, nostrils assaulted by the scent of blood and open sores”. I stumble around the clustered entrance before making my way into an open space inside the tent. And just ahead… There she was.

My mother, bound in silver. Her arms stretched above her head, wrists bruised raw. Her hair matted with sweat, blood, and… I can tell from the scent, Piss. These bastards have no dignity.

Her bruised face jerks up. Eyes were defiant, ready for whatever torture was in store for her.  But her eyes, those storm-bright eyes lit the second they saw me.

"Casper?"

"Yeah Mom, it’s me”.

I said, voice shaky with rage and sadness, she must be in so much pain. Yet I can tell she never stopped thinking about me.

“I’m sorry for calling you self-centered… I’m sorry for being a terrible son.”

She gave a soft laugh. Broken and dry, but it was hers.

"You came. That’s all that matters." I knelt beside her, slicing the chains. "Thank you. For being an amazing mother.."

She winced. The silver had done damage. Her skin steamed where the metal fell.

"You shouldn’t be here alone," she muttered, her voice rasping. "It’s too dangerous."

"We planned it. Decoyed their front. Slipped in from the back. Everything’s going according to plan".

She blinked at me, breathing shallowly. "Wait... the decoys..."

I froze. "Yeah? They did well. Drew out most of the forces. Even Osiris followed them."

Her eyes widened. Pupils narrowing. "No, no, no..."

She gripped my arm, tight despite her weakness; "Casper... Osiris doesn’t chase distractions. I know him enough, he wasn’t the one. The only one who saw him when he attacked the pack was Tyrion… Didn’t he tell you what Osiris looked like?"

“Tyrion is dead, Mom”.

My stomach dropped as I said it. She was shaking now, her breaths shallow, panicked. The realization that Tyrion was dead hurt her, but as a matter of urgency, she had to ignore it entirely because our current situation was far more dire.

"He’s not chasing them... Osiris is here." She said finally.