Chapter 3 - Wyn
The intelligence briefing has been going on for two hours, and we’re no closer to understanding what the Thornridge pack really wants.
I stand against the wall in Oren’s office, watching the assembled pack leadership debate our next moves. The conference table is crowded with familiar faces, people who’ve fought alongside us through the worst times and helped rebuild our territories into something worth protecting.
Oren is at his place at the head of the table, looking worse for wear.
The past few years as an alpha leader have aged him, adding lines around his eyes that weren’t there when we were kids.
But he’s grown into the role in ways his father never could.
The contrast between father and son couldn’t be more pronounced.
Where Jerrod ruled through fear and intimidation, Oren leads through earned respect and careful decision-making.
“Eight confirmed Thornridge scouts,” I report for the third time today. “All carrying professional-grade surveillance equipment. They’re not here for tourism.”
“Could be advance reconnaissance for a larger force,” suggests Reeyan, the pack historian. “Historical precedent shows this pattern before territory takeovers. The Ravenclaw invasion of 1847 followed identical reconnaissance methods.”
Dorian Fields, alpha leader of Ambersky, steeples his fingers.
His brown hair is shorter than I remember from his last visit, and there’s a new scar on his left hand that wasn’t there before.
Marriage and fatherhood have changed him, added weight to his shoulders that comes with protecting not just a pack, but a growing family.
“What kind of timeline are we looking at?”
“Hard to say,” I admit. “They’re being methodical. Mapping every approach, taking note of resources, and documenting defensive positions. This could take weeks or months.”
“Or they could already have everything they need,” Aidan Grayhide points out from his position near the window.
Despite sharing the Grayhide name, Aidan’s not technically part of our pack anymore.
He chose to remain unaffiliated after declining the alpha leadership role three years ago, but his insights are still valuable, and Oren trusts his judgment.
Emin Argent adjusts himself in his seat. As a council member, he brings a different perspective than the alpha leaders, one focused on practical implementation rather than grand strategy. “The question is what they want. Territory? Resources? Revenge for some past slight?”
“My money’s on the Amanzite,” Ash comments from her chair beside Oren.
She looks tired. The past few weeks of increased security measures have been hard on everyone, but especially on the luna, who’s been using her psychic abilities to help gather information.
Her claircognizant abilities have grown stronger as of late, but the constant use takes its toll.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Oren grumbles as he rubs his forehead. “The discovery of that deposit changed everything for both our packs. Made us targets.”
The Amanzite discovery was accidental. A sinkhole opened in Oren and Ash’s backyard, revealing deposits that could supply both packs for generations. What should have been a blessing has instead painted targets on all our backs.
Kira Argent nods from her seat across the table.
Her red-gold hair is braided today, and she’s holding a steaming mug of tea that’s probably gone cold during the meeting.
As Luna of Ambersky, she understands the burden of protecting something that others covet.
“The Amanzite reserves have brought prosperity, but they’ve also attracted attention from packs who want what we have. ”
“Which brings us back to the central question,” Dorian states. “Do we wait for them to make the first move, or do we act preemptively?”
“Acting without provocation could destabilize the entire region,” warns Veva Marone from her spot at the table.
As both a caster and someone with clairsentient abilities, she’s been invaluable in detecting supernatural threats.
The synthetic Amanzite she helped create years ago may have had its problems, but her magical innovations continue to benefit both packs.
Emaline Smyth nods in agreement. Her psychic abilities have also strengthened with training, making her another crucial asset in our intelligence network. “If we attack first, we become the aggressors. That could turn potential allies against us.”
“But if we wait too long, we might lose the advantage of knowing they’re coming,” Aidan counters. “Surprise has value in warfare.”
The debate continues with voices rising and falling as different perspectives clash. I’ve heard these arguments before, in various forms, during other crises. The balance between caution and action, diplomacy and force, protecting what we have and avoiding unnecessary conflict.
But my mind keeps drifting to Raegan, safely away from all this in Llewelyn territory.
At least there’s one member of the Blacklock family I don’t have to worry about.
The thought brings both relief and pain—relief that she’s out of danger, pain that I’m the reason she’s not here to contribute her own considerable intelligence to our planning.
“The border patrols have been increased,” I continue, bringing the discussion back to practical matters. “Jay and Theo are coordinating surveillance rotations with twelve-hour overlaps. We’ll know if Thornridge makes any aggressive moves.”
“What about our allies?” Oren asks. “Have we reached out to the other packs in the region?”
“I’ve sent messages to the major territories,” Dorian confirms. “Most are willing to share intelligence, but they’re reluctant to commit to any military action without more concrete evidence of Thornridge’s intentions.”
“Understandable,” Emin replies. “Nobody wants to get drawn into a conflict that might not materialize. The economic costs alone could destabilize smaller packs.”
“The problem is that by the time we have concrete evidence, it might be too late,” I point out. “If Thornridge is planning something big, they won’t give us advance warning.”
Ash moves just a bit, but something about the movement catches my attention. She’s gone very still, and her usual animated gestures have stopped mid-motion. Her eyes have taken on that distant look I’ve learned to recognize over the years.
“Ash?” Oren notices, too. “You okay?”
She doesn’t respond. Her breathing has changed; it’s become shallow and rapid. The mug in her hands starts to tremble, and I watch droplets of tea splash onto the conference table.
“Everyone, stay calm,” Emaline urges, recognizing the signs before the rest of us. “She’s having a vision.”
The room goes silent. We’ve all seen Ash experience visions before, but they’re never comfortable to watch. Her psychic abilities have grown stronger over the years, but stronger visions often mean more traumatic content.
Ash’s eyes go completely unfocused as she stares at something none of us can see. Her lips move, silently at first, then words start to come out in fragments.
“Shadows,” she whispers. “So many shadows. Deception everywhere, layers upon layers of lies.”
Oren reaches for her hand, but Veva holds up a warning finger. “Don’t touch her during a vision. It can cause feedback loops.”
“What are you seeing?” Oren asks.
“Danger,” Ash continues, her voice distant and hollow. “Surrounded by danger, but she can’t see it. The threat is right there, wearing a friendly face, but underneath…”
My blood chills when she uses the feminine pronoun. In our inner circle, there are only a few women who would prompt such a strong vision. And I have a sinking feeling that I know who she’s talking about.
“Who?” I demand, stepping closer to the table. “Who can’t see the danger?”
“Choices,” Ash gasps as her body begins to shake more violently. “Choices that will determine the fate of more than just one person. The wrong choice, made for the right reasons, but she doesn’t know what he really is.”
He. Every muscle in my body goes rigid.
“Ash, who are you seeing?” Dorian prompts, his voice pleading.
“Resigned,” she whispers, and there’s something heartbreaking about the word coming from her trembling lips.
“She's told herself this is the right choice.
Convinced herself it's practical. But underneath the rational justifications, there's emptiness. The foundation is built on lies she’s telling herself, and when it crumbles…”
She doesn’t finish the sentence, but the implication is left behind.
“Is this happening now?” Emaline asks. “Or is it a future possibility?”
“Soon,” Ash manages. “Very soon. Maybe already happening. The timelines are blurred, overlapping. Past choices create present dangers, creating future catastrophes.”
I can’t stand still anymore. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to act, to protect, to fight whatever threat is materializing in Ash’s vision. But I’m helpless against an enemy I can’t identify in a situation I don’t understand.
“Raegan,” Ash whispers, and my world tilts on its axis.
The name hits the room like a bomb. Nobody knows about my history with her, but for some reason, they all turn to look at me. They want me to protect her, I realize. To save her from whatever is coming. I force my face to remain neutral despite the panic clawing at my chest.
“What about Raegan?” I ask.
“Surrounded by shadows and deception,” Ash repeats. Her words become clearer as the vision stabilizes. “The danger is close to her, touching her, and she welcomes it because she doesn’t know what it really is.”
Touching her. The phrase makes my wolf snarl with territorial rage.
“She’s in Llewelyn territory,” Dorian reminds us all. “That’s one of the safest places in the region for an unmated omega.”
But Ash whispers, “Safety is an illusion. The threat came from within, wearing the mask of everything she thought she wanted.”
“Can you see what kind of threat?” Veva asks. “Physical violence? Kidnapping? Coercion?”
“Betrayal,” Ash says simply. “The deepest kind. Trust given to someone who was never worthy of it. Love offered to someone who views it as a tool to be used and discarded.”
Love. The word hits me like a punch to the gut, but I force myself to remain standing.
“The choice has been made,” Ash continues. “She said yes to the question, not knowing that saying yes was walking into a trap that’s been years in the making.”
“What question?” Oren demands.
But before Ash can answer, her body goes completely limp. The vision releases her all at once, leaving her gasping and disoriented in the chair. Oren moves to support her and help her sit upright while she recovers.
“I need details,” I demand with an unnaturally hoarse voice as I stand. “Everything you saw. Every impression, every fragment.”
Ash looks up at me with exhausted eyes. “That’s not how visions work, Wyn. I don’t get a complete story with clear explanations. I see pieces, feelings, impressions of possible futures.”
“Then give me the impressions,” I press, stepping closer to her. “You saw Raegan in danger. What kind of danger?”
“I saw her surrounded by deception so thick it was like physical darkness,” Ash explains, though her voice is still shaky from the vision.
“But she's convinced herself about something.
Rationalized it. Whatever choice she's made, she's trying to believe it's the right one even though her heart knows differently. "
“And the threat?”
“Someone close to her. Someone she trusts. But underneath the surface, they show her, there’s something sinister. Something that wants to use her for purposes she can’t imagine.”
My mind races through possibilities. Raegan has been in Llewelyn territory for three years. She’s made friends, built relationships, and earned the respect of the matriarchal pack leadership.
What could possibly threaten her there?
“Was she in immediate physical danger?” Dorian asks.
“I don’t think so. Not in the moment I was seeing. But the choices being made will lead to…” Ash stops and presses a hand to her forehead. “The future is fluid. What I saw might not come to pass if we act quickly enough.”
“Then we need to contact her now,” I insist. “Warn her that—”
The office door opens without a knock, cutting off my words. My heart stops as Raegan walks in, her blonde hair exactly as I remember it, wearing a simple floral dress that makes her hazel eyes look more green than brown.
She looks the same as she did three years ago, only more grown up. Beautiful, confident, carrying herself like she belongs wherever she chooses to be. The sight of her after so long makes my chest ache with longing and regret and a thousand other emotions I’ve spent three years trying to bury.
But my focus immediately snaps to the tall, sandy-haired man walking beside her. He’s wearing a suit and an expensive watch; everything about him screams educated and diplomatic. But I recognize him instantly from weeks of surveillance footage.
It’s one of the Thornridge scouts.
Every instinct I have screams at me to grab Raegan and get her away from the enemy who’s somehow gotten close enough to touch her. But I force myself to remain perfectly still, showing no reaction even as my world crumbles around me.
How is this possible? How did a Thornridge operative end up here, in the heart of Grayhide territory, standing beside the woman I’ve spent three years trying to forget?
The timing is too perfect to be a coincidence. Ash’s vision about deception and betrayal, about choices that will doom more than one person, and now, Raegan appears with one of our enemies at her side.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Raegan says with a small wave. Her voice sounds exactly how I remember it: warm, confident, with just a hint of mischief that always made me want to smile despite myself. “I know you’re in a meeting, but I wanted to introduce everyone to someone important.”
She steps closer to the sandy-haired man, and I watch in horror as she takes his hand. The intimacy of the gesture makes my wolf want to tear his throat out. The ring on her finger catches the fluorescent glow coming from the ceiling, and my stomach drops as I realize what it means.
“This is Bastian Corvelli,” she continues, her face glowing with genuine happiness that breaks my heart and terrifies me in equal measure. “My fiancé.”