Chapter 3 i
The next morning dawned heavy with an unnatural stillness, the kind that settled before a storm. Damon stood at the edge of the pack’s training grounds, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched the warriors assemble. They moved with precision, but the tension in the air was palpable.
The reports had been coming in steadily over the past few days, rogue attacks not just on their pack but on others in the surrounding region. Smaller packs had been devastated, their members scattered or killed. Even larger packs were struggling to hold their borders.
It wasn’t random.
The attacks were coordinated, systematic, and ruthless.
Damon’s wolf paced restlessly in his mind, the urge to protect his pack gnawing at him. He’d called for reinforcements, strengthening patrols and fortifying defenses, but the threat loomed larger than any single pack could handle.
Lila watched from the sidelines, her heart heavy as she observed Damon addressing the warriors. His voice was calm, authoritative, but she could see the strain in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw.
He was carrying the weight of the pack on his shoulders, and though she knew he was strong, she couldn’t help but worry.
“Do you think the rogues will attack us again?” she asked Maren, who stood beside her.
Maren’s face was grim. “It’s likely. They’ve been testing our defenses, looking for weaknesses. Damon’s doing everything he can, but…” She hesitated, glancing at Lila. “The scale of these attacks—it’s unlike anything we’ve seen before.”
Lila swallowed hard, her gaze drifting back to Damon. He looked untouchable, a force of nature, but she knew better. Beneath the stoic exterior, he was as vulnerable as anyone else.
As the day wore on, Damon retreated to his study to review the latest reports. Maps and notes were spread across the desk, detailing the locations of recent attacks. The pattern was clear: the rogues were closing in, their movements strategic and deliberate.
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.
“Enter,” he called, his voice clipped.
It was Grunt, his Beta, who stepped inside, his expression grim. “Another attack,” he said without preamble.
Damon’s stomach tightened. “Where?”
“A neighboring pack, three miles east. Their Alpha is requesting aid. They’re holding for now, but they’ve lost several warriors.”
Damon clenched his fists. “We’ll send reinforcements. Assemble a team of our best fighters. I’ll lead them myself.”
Grunt hesitated. “Damon, you’re the Alpha. If this is a diversion, we can’t risk you being away from the pack.”
“I won’t sit here while others fall,” Damon growled. His wolf surged to the surface, demanding action.
“Then at least take me with you,” Grunt said.
Damon nodded, already moving to prepare.
The attack on the neighboring pack was brutal. By the time Damon and his warriors arrived, the rogues were tearing through the defenses like a plague.
The battle was chaotic, a blur of snarling wolves and flashing claws. Damon fought with lethal precision, his movements a deadly dance as he tore through the enemy. His wolf reveled in the violence, the primal urge to protect his territory and people driving him forward.
But even as the rogues were driven back, Damon’s unease grew. They weren’t fighting to win—they were testing, probing for weaknesses.
It was a warning.
When Damon returned to the pack lands that night, his body ached with exhaustion, but his mind was sharper than ever. He gathered the elders and his trusted advisors in the main hall, the gravity of the situation clear on his face.
“This isn’t just about us,” he said, his voice steady but firm. “The rogues are targeting every pack in the region. They’re organized, coordinated, and they won’t stop until they’ve destroyed everything in their path.”
The elders murmured among themselves, their faces lined with worry.
“What do you suggest, Alpha?” one of them asked.
“We need alliances,” Damon replied. “The packs in this region can’t stand alone. If we don’t unite, we’ll fall one by one.”
Meanwhile, Lila sat alone in her room, her mind racing with worry. She’d heard the whispers, the rumors of devastation in other packs. Fear coiled in her stomach, but more than that, she felt an overwhelming concern for Damon.
She knew he was strong, but even he couldn’t face this threat alone.
As much as she hated to admit it, she felt powerless. She wanted to help, to do something, anything, to ease the burden he carried. But what could she offer? She wasn’t a warrior or a strategist.
She pressed her hands to her face, trying to push away the image of Damon standing alone against an enemy he couldn’t see.
The next morning, Damon stood on the balcony overlooking the pack lands. His eyes scanned the horizon, his thoughts heavy with the weight of his decisions.
Lila watched him from a distance, her heart aching at the sight. He looked untouchable, but she knew the toll this was taking on him.
Summoning her courage, she approached him.
“Damon.”
He turned, his expression guarded as always. “Lila.”
“I wanted to thank you,” she said, her voice soft.
“For what?”
“For protecting us. For protecting me.”
His eyes softened for a fleeting moment before the walls came back up. “It’s my duty,” he said curtly.
Lila hesitated, then stepped closer. “You don’t have to do this alone, Damon. There are people who care about you—who want to help.”
He looked away, his jaw tightening. “Caring is a weakness. Attachments make you vulnerable.”
Her chest tightened at his words. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
When he didn’t answer, she reached out, placing a hand on his arm. The contact sent a jolt through both of them, and for a moment, Damon didn’t pull away.
But then he stepped back, his expression colder than ever.
“Go inside, Lila,” he said, his voice low. “It’s not safe out here.”
Lila watched him walk away, her heart breaking all over again.
But even as he disappeared into the shadows, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Damon was fighting more than just the rogues. He was fighting himself and the walls he’d built around his heart.