“Of course they do,” I mutter, eyes scanning the valley below. The Grand Alpha’s den sprawls across the rockface like a festering wound—defensible, elevated, and crawling with guards. “The trap was always meant to end here—at his seat of power, surrounded by his forces, on his terms.”
“We’re outnumbered at least ten to one,” Elias observes, not panicked, just stating fact. “Even with your strength, a direct assault would be suicide.”
He’s right.
Thaddeus’s elite fighters are no joke—fanatically loyal, trained for blood, and bolstered by pack alliances that have survived generations through fear, power, and political marriage. Add to that his war seers and ancient wards, and we’re walking into a death trap if we go loud.
But I’ve never played by the Grand Alpha’s rules.
“We won’t charge the gates,” I say. “We cut the legs out from under them.”
Elias lifts his head. “Guerrilla tactics?”
I nod. “Skirmishes. Strikes on supply lines. Eliminate patrols. Pick off his forces one by one. Quietly.”
The others gather close as I continue, voice low but resolute.
“Thaddeus is counting on our desperation. On my rage. He wants me reckless. Instead, we’ll make him bleed from a thousand small cuts. Thin his ranks. Sow fear and doubt. And when the cracks appear—when his command structure starts to crumble—that’s when we slip in.”
“Won’t that take time?” one of the trackers asks.
“Not as much as you think,” Elias answers for me, eyes gleaming. “You’ve never seen what Shadowmist wolves can do with a week and a grudge.”
I offer a grim smile. “And we’ve got both.”
There’s a quiet moment—a breath shared between wolves, instinctive, electric.
We’re outnumbered. Outarmed. But we’re not outmatched.
“I want two-man teams,” I continue. “Fast, smart, silent. Strike only when you can do so without being seen. Disappear before they can track you. Collapse bridges, sabotage food stores, disable weapon caches. I want Thaddeus questioning his own shadows.”
“What about Kitara?” Elias asks. “If we delay too long?—”
“We won’t delay,” I cut in. “We’re buying ourselves a window. A clean one. When it opens, we go in—and we get her out.”
No one argues because they understand what’s at stake. They know what Kitara means to me. To the pack.
War fought in daylight belongs to tyrants like Thaddeus. But war fought in the dark? That’s where we thrive.
“Let the battle begin.”
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Iforce my eyes open despite the throbbing at my temples and the dull ache radiating from every limb. The room is small, windowless, stone-walled, and silent. I lie on a narrow cot with a threadbare blanket that smells faintly of mildew and blood, neither of which are mine but both make my stomach churn.
A single chair sits near the wall. A camp torch flickers in a bracket overhead, casting long, shifting shadows that creep across the cracked floor like ghosts. The air is heavy with age and dust, and thick with the scent of wolf-kind. There’s no breeze, no sunlight, and no sounds beyond those made by the wolves holding me prisoner.
My clothes have been changed. My dress has been replaced with coarse leggings and a too-thin shirt. My boots and socks are gone. The shadow silver dagger Ryker gave me? Vanished. My feet press against the frigid stone floor as I roll off the bed to stand, and I grit my teeth against the cold.
My chains rattle as I move. They’re long enough to let me take three small steps in either direction—far enough to reach the chair, or touch the wall, or pace like an animal—but no farther. I test them with a sharp jerk. They don’t even creak.
My wolf growls inside me, feral with rage.We don’t stay in a cage.
Her anger pulses beneath my skin, wild and snarling. But there’s calculation there too. She’s hunting for options, not just blood.
No pack scent, I tell her, heart sinking.Wherever they’ve taken Lithia, it’s not here.
