Chapter 29 Brynn
brYNN
The argument started small. A tactical disagreement about approach routes that escalated with each passing minute. But sitting on volcanic stone with my swollen belly making every position uncomfortable, I could smell the real problem underneath the strategic debate.
Fear. Rage. Testosterone and territorial instincts spiraling toward violence.
Whatever truce I'd seen earlier between Coone and Roqs was becoming nonexistent.
"—completely fucking insane," Coone was snarling at Roqs, his usual composure shredded. "You want to trust intelligence from the same bastard who helped capture him?"
Roqs's golden eyes flashed with dangerous light. "He risked everything to get us that information—"
"After betraying everything to get Zirc captured in the first place!"
CG dared to step between them, but his own crew was backing away from the confrontation. CG was braver than I thought. I could see Nif's hand drifting toward his weapon, Sinx calculating escape routes. The alliance we desperately needed was disintegrating before my eyes.
"Both of you need to calm down," Nim tried, his diplomatic voice carrying alpha authority. "This isn't helping Zirc."
"Don't tell me what helps him," Coone spat, whirling to face the Purple Tribe heir. "You don't know what it's like to have your mate stolen by someone who was supposed to be an ally."
"Actually," Sim interjected with dangerous quiet, "we know exactly what betrayal feels like. The difference is we don't let it cloud our tactical judgment."
The insult hit home. Coone's claws extended, his beast form flickering beneath his skin. Roqs stepped forward, recognizing the challenge to his authority, and suddenly the air reeked of imminent violence.
"Enough!" Nim barked, but his command carried no weight against instincts gone feral.
Roqs was partially shifting, his beast rising in response to the territorial challenge. Golden fur sprouted along his arms, fangs extending as his alpha nature demanded he establish dominance. "Stand down, Coone."
"Make me."
They launched at each other with the fluid violence of apex predators, claws raking, teeth snapping.
CG's crew scattered, hands on weapons but unwilling to interfere in what looked like a challenge fight.
Even Xy and Clitasoxdfwe'h backed away, recognizing the dangerous futility of getting between battling alphas.
Sim tried to intervene and caught a backhand from Roqs that sent him sprawling into the thermal pool. Nim's diplomatic protests were lost in snarls and the wet sound of claws finding flesh.
I watched my carefully assembled alliance tear itself apart and felt something dark and primal uncoil in my chest.
The babies pushed hard against my skin—still too small to really kick me hard—responding to my spiking stress hormones. But instead of the usual discomfort, their movement felt different. Urgent, demanding. Like they were telling me to do something.
The mother's instinct that hit me wasn't gentle or nurturing. It was the cold, calculating fury of a predator whose pack was threatening itself.
I stood slowly, feeling my center of gravity shift, and released the deepest, most menacing growl I'd ever produced in my life.
The sound that came from my throat shouldn't have been possible from human vocal cords. Low, resonant, carrying harmonics that vibrated through bone and triggered every territorial warning system evolution had ever developed. It was the sound of something that would kill to protect what was mine.
Every conversation stopped. Every movement froze.
Roqs and Coone separated as if struck by lightning, their beasts recognizing a threat they couldn't identify or categorize.
CG's crew went statue-still, hands moving unconsciously away from weapons.
Even Nim and Sim, dripping and bloodied, turned to stare at me with expressions of shock and something approaching awe.
The silence that followed was absolute.
"Are you finished?" My voice was deadly quiet, carrying undertones that made several of the mercenaries step back. "Because while you're all pissing on trees and proving how tough you are, Zirc is dying in his cell."
I moved toward the center of the group, and they parted before me like water. Not out of reverence this time, but out of instinctive recognition that I was something they didn't want to challenge.
"You," I pointed at Roqs, who was still partially shifted and bleeding from claw marks. "Your mate made choices that led to this situation. He's also making choices to fix it. You can honor those choices or wallow in guilt, but you don't get to attack your allies over it."
Roqs's beast slowly subsided, his eyes clearing as he processed the authority in my voice.
"And you," I turned to Coone, who was nursing a split lip and radiating sullen defiance. "Zirc is your mate, which means his rescue is your priority. Everything else is secondary. Act like it."
The challenge in Coone's expression flickered and died as he met my gaze. Whatever he saw there made him take a step back and lower his eyes in submission.
I could smell the shift in the group's pheromones. Fear, respect, and something deeper that made my skin flush with awareness. They weren't just listening to me anymore. They were responding to something primal that had awakened in my pregnancy-changed body.
"CG," I continued, noting how the mercenary captain straightened under my attention. "Your crews are mercenaries. Start acting like it. Coordinate with the others or find the exit."
"Yes, my lady," he replied immediately, his usual casual demeanor replaced by professional deference.
I turned to survey the rest of them. Nim wiping blood from his massive bicep with casual efficiency, Sim wringing thermal water from his clothes like getting tossed into the shallow pool was just another Tuesday.
Both were discretely adjusting themselves where their cocks had hardened in response to my display of dominance.
Neither showed any wounded pride or resentment at being commanded.
They simply accepted the new pack hierarchy and waited for orders, aroused and attentive.
"Now," I said, placing both hands on my rounded belly in a gesture that somehow managed to be both protective and threatening. "Let's discuss why you're all going to do exactly what I tell you to do."
The babies shifted inside me, and I felt that primal certainty settle deeper within me. This wasn't about politics or tribal allegiances or hurt feelings. This was about survival—mine, theirs, and the precious lives I carried.
"I'm pregnant with hybrid offspring that represent the future of your species," I continued, my voice carrying harmonics that made them lean in despite themselves. "That makes me more valuable than every other person in this alliance combined. It also makes me more dangerous."
I let that sink in, watching realization dawn in their expressions.
"You need me alive and healthy to carry these children to term.
But I need my mates—all of them—alive and safe to help me raise them.
" My smile was sharp enough to cut glass.
"Which means anyone who threatens this mission threatens my children.
And mothers who feel their offspring are in danger tend to be. .. creative... in their responses."
The threat was subtle but unmistakable. Cross me, and find out what a desperate pregnant female with nothing to lose was capable of.
"So here's how this is going to work," I said, moving to a raised section of rock that gave me height advantage over the group. The position felt natural, powerful energy flowing through my veins.
"Roqs, you're going to stop second-guessing your mate's motives and start trusting his intelligence.
You're the Alpha of the Silver Tribe—act like one.
Coone, you're going to channel your protective instincts into tactical planning instead of territorial posturing.
CG, your crews are going to follow orders without question because that's what professionals do.
Nim and Sim, you are heirs of the Purple Tribe and your people—" I pointed to Xy, Clitasoxdfwe'h and CG's crew who were mostly mixed but predominantly of the Purple and White Tribes. "They depend on you!"
Nim and Sim straightened their posture at the same time.
I paused, letting my gaze sweep over the assembled group. "And all of you are going to remember that failure isn't an option, because I won't tolerate losing any more of my family."
The word 'family' hit them like a physical blow. I could see it in their expressions—the recognition that I wasn't just talking about romantic bonds, but about the pack structure that was forming around my pregnancy.
"Questions?" I asked, and when silence greeted me, I felt that feral satisfaction deepen. "Good. Then let's plan a siege."
As they began to arrange themselves for tactical discussion, I caught Nim's eye.
The Purple Tribe heir was studying me with an expression I'd never seen before—not just attraction or protective instincts, but genuine respect for displayed dominance that had nothing to do with genetic heritage or tribal politics.
"Remind me never to threaten your children," Xy murmured as he passed, settling cross-legged on the stone without any sign of wounded pride.
"Smart," I replied, feeling the babies flutter in what I chose to interpret as approval.
Sim squeezed excess water from his hair and took position beside his mate, one hand briefly palming his erection through wet fabric before settling cross-legged on the stone.
"So," he said conversationally, as if he hadn't just been bodily thrown into a pool and wasn't currently sporting wood from watching me dominate a room full of warriors, "what's our timeline? "
Roqs approached me and brushed the back of his hand against my cheek.
He exhaled roughly, tail swishing across wet stone.
"Zirc knew you were special, little one.
I remember the first time I saw you when he left you at his sanctuary.
If only he were here. Trill's actions weigh on me.
Part of me wants to kill him for handing Zirc over to Kilo.
And yet, a deeper bond pulls me, like a chain around my spine. The fated connection."
I gently laid a hand on his forearm, feeling the muscle tense beneath my touch. "The bond might be predetermined, but your choices are not. Trill's actions matter. If he's working now to save Zirc, we'll do our best to honor that... and if not—"
A slow nod. "Then he faces the consequences."
I squeezed his arm gently. "Roqs, you're allowed to be conflicted. But we can't let this confusion stop us. Zirc needs us." In my peripheral vision, I saw Nim and Sim cross their arms at the same time, smirks on their faces.
He lowered his gaze to my rounded belly, his features softening. "How do you stay so calm? So... resolute?"
My laugh sounded more tired than I intended. "I'm not calm at all. I'm terrified. But I can't let that rule me. We've all put our hopes in rescuing Zirc and forging alliances that might change everything for your people... and for me. So I'm choosing forward motion, no matter how scared I feel."
It took him a long moment, but I saw his shoulders relax as if I'd just eased some weight off them. "You sound like an alpha," he said quietly, almost smiling.
Before I could answer, Nim huddled with us. Sim was a step behind, scanning the perimeter. "We're ready, Brynn," Nim announced, his purple fur catching the new sunlight. "CG's mercenaries want a quick briefing. They've rallied a few stragglers from the old trade routes."
I felt the baby—babies?—flutter, and a wave of determined energy filled me. This was exactly the moment I needed to step forward.
"Let's do this," I said.
The alliance that reformed around me was different from what had existed before the fight. Stronger. More cohesive. Built on recognition of natural authority rather than desperate cooperation. If only my adoptive parents could see me now, they would be so proud.
And as I settled into planning the assault that would bring Zirc home, I marveled at the transformation that had occurred inside me. The gentle, confused human female was still there, but she was wrapped now in something far more dangerous.
Something that would kill to protect what was mine.
Something that could command apex predators and make them grateful for the privilege.
I was becoming exactly what this world needed me to be.
And that should probably terrify me more than it did.