Chapter 1 - Flint #3
“You still don’t trust me,” she said finally, her voice uncharacteristically small.
I stopped walking and turned to face her. With me, she wasn’t playing the defiant beta who would stand up to any alpha’s authority. This was my littermate, the sister I’d tried to protect by accepting exile in her place.
“Should I?” I asked gently. “You left the entire Frost Fang pack defenseless against witches because of your hatred of alphas.”
The words tasted bitter, but they needed to be said. My wolf whined at the discord between us, but truth mattered more than comfort.
Her jaw tightened. “I didn’t know about the witches until Dryden betrayed us to them.”
I challenged, “Because your pride came before pack safety.”
“That’s not fair,” she snapped, but I could see the flicker of guilt in her eyes.
I kept my voice level. “You spent weeks undermining Gage’s authority, turning wolves against him, all because you couldn’t stand the idea of another alpha leading Frost Fang.”
“It wasn’t that simple,” she protested.
“Then help me understand,” I said. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you let your personal feelings endanger the pack.”
“I was protecting the pack,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction.
“From what? From alphas who actually give a damn about protecting people instead of controlling them?”
The fight seemed to drain out of her all at once. “You left, Flint. You chose exile instead of fighting for our place in the pack. Then suddenly you came back, and you were… different.”
The raw hurt in her voice struck me like a knife between the ribs. I’d always told myself I’d protected her by accepting exile, by drawing Garth’s anger onto myself instead of letting it fall on her. But in her eyes, I’d abandoned her when she needed me most.
“I left to protect you,” I said quietly.
I became aware of Gage approaching, not intruding but close enough to provide backup if needed. Fern noticed too, her posture stiffening as she realized she was effectively facing off against two alphas.
“By leaving me behind to face those alphas on my own?” she shot back, years of suppressed pain spilling out. “I needed my littermate at my side when I called the alphas on their bullshit. I needed someone who understood that not all of us can be alphas, but that doesn’t make us worthless.”
We stood there, the weight of years of misunderstanding hanging between us like morning mist. Gage watched us, his expression unreadable but his presence steady through our bonds.
“I’m sorry,” I said finally. “I made the choice I thought was right at the time. I thought if I took the punishment, you’d be safe.”
“And I made the choice I thought was right when I challenged Gage’s leadership,” she countered, glancing over at him, then away. “I saw what Garth did to the pack after you left. How he abused his power as an alpha. Nira was no better. I swore she’d be the last alpha to rule us.”
“So, when Gage took over, you saw just another alpha ready to use his power to control others.”
She nodded, her eyes dropping to the ground. “I know better now. I saw how you all risked everything to save Heath, to save all of us, to get us out of there to safety.”
“But the damage was done,” I finished.
Gage stepped forward, his alpha presence filling the space between us. His voice was stern when he said her name.
She reluctantly glanced at him, then averted her gaze respectfully.
“I’m going to use my alpha command,” Gage warned. “Not because I enjoy forcing you to submit, but because we need to know where we stand without any uncertainty between us.”
Her lips twisted into a silent snarl, but she nodded. “It’s the least I deserve.”
And then Gage unleashed his alpha power, which hit her harder since he still held Frost Fang pack alpha status. “Fern, answer our questions with nothing but the unfiltered truth. Do not lie to us. Understand?”
“Yes, alpha.” Fern’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, but the words instantly fell from her lips.
“Can we trust you to put your fellow shifters’ safety above your personal feelings about alphas?”
“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “Of course. I won’t let my personal feelings put the pack in danger again.”
“Can you follow the Howling Echo’s lead?” I asked. “Not all of us are alphas.”
“I can and I will follow the Howling Echo,” Fern’s eyes blazed as she met my gaze. “I may not always like your orders, but I will carry them out.”
“Even if you disagree with them?” Gage pushed.
“I’ve learned my lesson,” Fern growled. “I’ll do as you say, alphas.”
“That’s all I needed to hear,” Gage said, the command leaving his voice. “We’re not asking you to bow to alphas, Fern. We’re asking you to work with us.”
I nodded. “We’re going to need everyone for what’s coming. We need your help protecting the pack, sister.”
She looked between us, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “I can do that.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I stepped forward to pull my littermate into a fierce embrace. She stiffened at first, then melted against me, her arms coming up to squeeze me back.
“I missed you,” I murmured against her hair.
“I missed you too,” she whispered back. “Even when I hated you for leaving.”
The admission cracked something open in my chest. We shared the same pain, but I hoped she also shared my desire for healing the rifts between us.
When we pulled apart, there were tears in both our eyes, but something had shifted. The wall between us wasn’t gone, but there was a door in it now.
“Come on,” I said, gesturing back into the camp. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it together.”
As we walked back toward the war tent, Fern fell into step beside me, and for the first time in years, it felt like I had my sister back.
We’d barely reached the tent when a commotion overhead drew our attention.
A large black raven swooped down from the sky, its wings cutting through the crisp winter air with urgent purpose.
The bird let out a harsh croaking sound that seemed to echo with ominous meaning, circling once before diving toward the three of us.
“Freya,” I called as we hurried toward the war tent.
None of the rest of us were Odinswolves. She would know the meaning of this.
As soon as Freya stepped outside and followed our gazes, her face drained of color.
“Tor must have sent him,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she watched the raven’s flight.
The moment its dark gaze fell on her, it dove.
Gage let out a shout as it folded its wings, falling straight for her.
At the last second, it flared its wings and landed heavily on the ground in front of her, then immediately took flight again, only to dive and land once more.
The message was unmistakable — urgent, repetitive, desperate.
“Denraider,” Freya said, her voice growing stronger with terrible certainty. “They’ve crossed into Idaho. Tor told me he would send a sign when it happened.”
Everyone’s posture stiffened as the distant threat became immediate and real. Through the bond, I sensed Gage’s anger flared white-hot while Heath’s mind raced through tactical implications.
“How can you be sure?” Idori asked, stepping out of the tent behind Freya.
“Tor and I share a connection through dreams,” Freya explained, her eyes never leaving the agitated raven. “This is his messenger. He told me a raven would fall to the ground in front of me to let me know the moment Denraider advanced.”
“I’ll send out scouts to warn us when they get close,” Idori said, clearly believing they would raze Moonblessed first.
The pack of conquerors wasn’t just a distant threat anymore — they were here, crossing into our territory, bringing their brutal conquest to our doorstep. And somewhere in their ranks, hidden among wolves who would kill him without hesitation if they discovered his true identity, was Rowan.
The thought occurred to all of us at once.
“We need to warn him,” Heath said, his voice tight with worry as he met Gage’s eyes.
“He reached Denraider territory already,” I pointed out, recalling his most recent update — quick, efficient, and lacking in other details. “He might have already found his way in.”
“Either way, he needs to know,” Zak countered.
Freya wrapped her arms around herself as though she’d suddenly caught a chill despite her shifter blood.
“If they’re mobilizing this fast, he might not have had time to integrate yet,” Gage replied grimly. “He could be walking into a war zone.”
Idori frowned. “They’ll focus on consolidating their position rather than training new recruits. That makes Rowan’s mission both more dangerous and more urgent.”
Artemis stepped forward, her expression grave. “If Denraider’s already in Idaho… They might force him onto the front lines.”
Gage closed his eyes, reaching out with desperate intensity. He’d severed the pack bond with Rowan, but the Bonded link remained — our lifeline to him in enemy territory.
“Rowan.” Urgency sharpened his mental voice.
The response came back faint and distracted, like an echo from the bottom of a well. “Can’t talk now.”
“It’s urgent,” Gage pressed. “Denraider is mobilizing. They’ve crossed into Idaho.”
A pause, then Rowan’s voice came back tighter. “I know.”
Before any of us could respond, the mental curtains pulled tightly closed as Rowan cut off the connection, leaving us with nothing but cold silence.
Gage let out a fierce growl of frustration, causing everyone nearby to take a startled step back.
If Rowan was pulling back like this, if he couldn’t risk even a brief conversation, then he was deeper in enemy territory than any of us had hoped.
“He’s in position,” I reported to Idori, Artemis, and the rest, wishing those words felt more reassuring.
Zak added, “And he can’t afford to be distracted.”
Heath nodded. “So, we go after Dryden now, before Denraider arrives on our doorstep. We can’t afford to fight them both at once.”
“Heath’s right,” Gage agreed. “We need to clear the way.”
Freya’s shoulders tightened, and I moved behind her to pull her against my chest as she murmured, “He’s alone in enemy territory, and now they’re pulling him into pack war against us.”
“He’s not alone,” Zak said. “We’ll be here when he needs us in the Bonded link.”
Gage agreed. “He’s a survivor. Nothing will stop him from returning to your side, princess.”
The raven let out another harsh cry, then took flight, disappearing into the gray winter sky, its message delivered, its purpose served.
“Dryden first,” Gage decided. “We keep to our plan: We strike fast and hard before the witches get reinforcements.” He nodded to me.
“Fighting on two fronts is a luxury we can’t afford — it leads to heavy losses we can’t sustain.
We eliminate the witch threat completely, then prepare to face Denraider. ”
“Please be safe,” Freya whispered to Rowan through the Bonded link, her voice small.
The mental curtains between us and Rowan didn’t so much as rustle.
“Perhaps tonight you can try to find him in your dreams, moonbeam,” I suggested.
My words bolstered her, and she straightened in my embrace. Her determination and resolve unfurled in the Bonded link.
“Rowan will survive,” I whispered into her hair, putting all the confidence I could muster into my words. “He always does.”
Gage led the way back inside the war tent, and this time, not only did the alphas follow, but Fern joined us, too. With the raven’s caw still echoing off the mountains around us, I straightened, turning my mind toward what came next.
Denraider was advancing, and soon we’d face them with everything we had. But first, we’d show Dryden and his witch allies what happened when they threatened our pack. The war we’d been preparing for was no longer a distant possibility.
It was here.