Page 71 of Lunar's Ruined Alpha
Alina doesn’t stop speaking yet, though. “I know what you all might think of me. I know what I did when I chose to leave this pack. But right now, none of that matters. What matters is Noah. He’s one of you. One of—one of us. He’s a Greenbriar, and we need to bring him home.”
One of us. The profoundness of that statement is staggering. I’m surprised that I managed to keep my knees from trembling at the sound of Alina stating aloud at last that she is, truly and unequivocally, a member of the Greenbriar pack.
The silence after her words is suffocating.
Then, my father steps forward.
“You have heard my son’s Mate—your future Luna—speak her truth, and so there is only one answer we can offer. We rally. Tonight. Our strongest warriors will answer their summons, and we’ll go to the borderlands by moonrise. The Blackburns want war, and so war is what they’ll get.”
A human howl bursts from the crowd. First one, then another, until the air is alive with it. A hundred voices rising into the night sky, teeth bared and ready to lengthen into canines, claws itching to burst free.
I look to Alina again, stunned by the sight of her with her shoulders squared, hair loose and wild, and eyes full of both a mother’s rageand a warrior’s courage. She meets my gaze, and for the first time in years, there’s no fear between us. No guilt. Only fire. Only truth.
Only us.
The howling reaches a fever pitch, and my father begins issuing orders. The pack moves as one, fast and fluid, with no hesitation. No one questions Alina. No one looks at her like a threat.
They look at her like the prophecy was never spoken. And that’s when I see Kseniya standing on the far edge of the organized chaos. There is a wide smile on her wrinkled face and undeniable wisdom in her eyes. Even from this distance, I swear I can understand what the old wise woman is trying to tell me.
She made a mistake. There is a first time for everything.
Chapter 25
Alina
We cross Onto Whiterose land a few hours before midnight, and I’m already halfway to losing control.
I had to physically restrain myself by holding on tight to Rowan’s hand in order to avoid shifting and running to Blackburn territory myself. Every second that Noah has been in their clutches feels like torture, and the primal instincts within me have made it difficult for me to sort between logic and vengeance.
But I had to wait. I couldn’t go after Samson on my own. Not even a wolf mother’s urge to destroy anyone who threatens her young can defeat one of the most vicious shifters in the region.
Luckily, the Greenbriars assembled quickly. Very few questions were asked once Rowan and his father took control of the situation. Which was shocking, actually, considering that I just dropped several bombs of information on these people. Not just the fact that I’m his Mate, but also that we have a child together, who will become the next heir to the pack if he chooses to.
I’m still adamant that it has to be Noah’s choice. If he doesn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps, I will defend that decision just as fiercely as anything else.
For now, though, I need to make sure that my son lives long enough to be able to decide such a thing.
The world is a blur of movement with Greenbriar wolves at my flanks, Rowan running beside me, and the earth underfoot shifting from mossy woodland to damp scrub. This shortcut through Whiterose land shaves hours off the route, and is free of sentinels thanks to the civil war brewing among them, but every minute still feels like a knife to the chest.
Noah is out there. Alone and in enemy hands.
And I swear can scent his fear even from miles away.
His scent burns like sliver in the back of my throat. Sun-warmed pine boughs, like the tree sap that clings to his hair when he climbs too high. It’s fresh, which means that he’s close.
The moment we hit the borderlands, I loosen my grip on the human side of myself. It’s the part of me that seeks reason above violence, patience above impulse, and I have no need for it right now.
I launch forward across the border, claws tearing into the earth as the world goes red.
The Blackburns are waiting for us, just like we knew they would be. They are reckless beasts, but Samson doesn’t do anything without a plan. They knew we’d come. They counted on it, in fact.
Rowan lets out a savage snarl as the dense, metallic scent of the Blackburn pack rushes toward us. It’s the kind of sound that might make my blood run cold if I heard it in my human form and hadn’t yet repaired the Mating bond. Now, however, it is a siren song to me, and I echo the growl with one of my own.
There are about fifty of us. Almost half the pack. The Blackburns have smaller numbers, but they fight dirtier. It’s all right, though, because we’ve prepared for that.
The first Blackburn wolf comes out of the underbrush with teeth bared, and I don’t give him a chance to make a sound. I slam into him, rip through his throat, and keep running.
There’s no time for mercy. No time for honor. No time for me to stop and process the fact that I’ve never killed before, and that I just did it for the first time without hesitation in less than ten seconds.
