Chapter 25 - Zak
Zak
The metallic click of magazines being loaded punctuated the morning air.
Around the camp, wolves moved with purpose — some cleaning weapons, others gathering supplies, some engaging in sparring matches in wolf form, others reinforcing defensive positions.
The scent of gun oil mingled with woodsmoke while an ever-increasing tension settled over our alliance along with the morning frost.
I found Freya sitting alone near the edge of camp, her eyes fixed on the distant mountains. The weight of failure hung around her like a shroud, and through our mate bond, I felt the sharp edge of her frustration.
“I should’ve been able to reach her,” she said without looking at me. “Valkyrie’s my sister. My blood. If I can dreamwalk to my mates, why can’t I reach her?”
I settled beside her, close enough that our shoulders touched. “Because she’s not your mate, my spark. Even an astral must have limitations.”
The new word still felt strange on my tongue, but it fit her perfectly.
“Your magic works through bonds — the mate bonds, the Bonded link. You reached Rowan, Tor, and me because we’re yours. Valkyrie… she’s family, but the connection isn’t the same.”
Her hands clenched in her lap. “What good is all this power if I can’t even find my own sister?”
I took her hand, threading my fingers through hers.
Her hand trembled slightly in mine, and I ran my thumb across her knuckles.
In Ravenscroft, showing this kind of vulnerability — admitting failure with a spell, seeking comfort — would have earned mockery at best, punishment at worst. The coven valued power above all else, and any weakness was exploited ruthlessly.
But here, with Freya, vulnerability didn’t make us weaker. It made us stronger.
“Tor’s ravens are watching. Rowan knows the lay of the land Denraider calls their packlands. We’ll figure it out.”
Her scent wrapped around me, wild apples and a spicy scent that was uniquely hers, grounding me even as I tried to support her. Through our mate bond, I felt her desperate need to solve every problem. She wanted to believe me, even as doubt gnawed at her.
Movement caught my eye — Fern approached with her characteristic determined stride. The beta’s expression was troubled, and I braced myself for whatever new problem she was bringing.
“Freya,” Fern said without preamble. “We have a situation with the New Dawn pack.”
Freya’s spine straightened, her personal worries temporarily shelved. “What kind of situation?”
Fern glanced at me, then back to Freya. “It’s Gabriel. He’s… struggling to submit to Artemis. She’s younger than him, and slightly less dominant.”
I followed Fern’s gaze across the camp to where Gabriel stood near the New Dawn section.
His tall frame was rigid, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Artemis coordinate supply distribution with several pack members.
Even from this distance, I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw worked as though chewing on words he refused to speak.
When Artemis gestured for him to join the discussion, Gabriel’s steps were measured, controlled — the walk of someone fighting their own instincts with every movement.
Jasmine appeared at his side, her hand finding his arm, and some of the rigidity eased from his posture.
But his eyes flashed gold for just a moment before he blinked it away.
“See?” Fern said quietly. “His wolf is right there, pushing against Artemis’s authority. And Gabriel’s human side is exhausted from constantly holding it back. His wolf rebels, even though his human side knows it’s the right choice.”
Freya let out a long exhale. “I see.”
Fern continued, “I hate admitting this, but… alpha status still means something. Wolf instincts don’t just disappear. Dominance hierarchies are hardwired into us.”
Freya’s discomfort reached me from the bond and through her scent. The pressure of being seen as the leader of all the packs weighed on her. Even Fern sensed it.
“Look, I hate putting this on you. I spent months trying to prove we didn’t need alphas to solve our problems. But you’re different. You’re an astral,” Fern said quietly. “Word about your powers is spreading.”
Through the Bonded link, I felt Freya reach out to the others.
“Fern just brought me a problem with Gabriel and Artemis,” she sent to all of us. “Gabriel’s more dominant and struggling to submit to her authority.”
Flint’s response came immediately. “That’s not uncommon. Thatcher and Lee had the same issue deciding who would lead Ironwood.”
Rowan added, “Thatcher’s the more natural leader, but Lee’s slightly more dominant. It took them time to work it out.”
“Can one of you find them?” Freya asked. “I think they might be able to help.”
“On it,” Heath replied.
Freya turned to Fern. “Let’s wait for Thatcher and Lee. They’ve dealt with this exact situation.”
Pride swelled in my chest. She was learning to delegate, to use the resources around her instead of trying to carry every burden herself.
When the two Ironwood alphas arrived, they greeted Freya with respectful nods. Thatcher’s calm demeanor contrasted with Lee’s more restless energy, but both radiated the confidence of wolves who’d found their equilibrium.
“Fern tells me Gabriel’s having trouble with the dominance dynamic in his new pack,” Freya said without preamble.
Thatcher nodded. “Not surprising. We went through the same thing.”
Lee crossed his arms. “Still do, sometimes. My wolf doesn’t like taking orders from someone less dominant. But I respect Thatcher’s leadership enough to work through it.”
“So… what, Gabriel just has to suck it up?” Fern asked.
Lee shrugged.
Thatcher answered, “Gabriel needs to decide if he actually wants to submit to Artemis’s authority, or if he wants to lead himself.”
“He said he had no interest leaving one big pack to lead another one,” Lee disagreed.
“Maybe the New Dawn wasn’t the right choice for him and his mates,” I grumbled, frustrated on Freya’s behalf for having to play babysitter for alpha dominance battles.
Though our other mates were scattered across both Moonblessed and our camp, I realized Freya was letting them see through our eyes when Gage answered.
“Let’s give him the chance to adjust. If it’s not the right fit, then we’ll change things up.”
A big black wolf loped toward us from across camp. Though everyone was familiar with Rowan by now, they still made way for the massive wolf who stood eye level to some of the shorter shifters in human form.
“Let the alphas sort this out, Freya. We need you sharp for what’s coming. Run with me. Clear your head.”
I sensed the wisdom in his suggestion. Freya needed a break from the constant pressure of being the astral everyone looked to for answers.
“Thatcher,” Freya said, “can you talk to Artemis? And Lee, maybe you could speak with Gabriel. Share your experience.”
Both alphas agreed readily.
“Thank you for bringing this to me, Fern,” Freya said. “Thatcher and Lee will help work this out.”
Freya stood, and I rose with her. As Thatcher, Lee, and Fern walked away, Freya turned to me. “Want to run with us?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” I grinned and began stuffing my clothes inside the sling bag Flint had made me as Freya did the same. The familiar ritual of preparing to shift settled some of the restless energy thrumming through our bonds.
My beta wolf emerged with a rush of relief. Despite everything, shifting still felt like coming home. The world sharpened into scents and sounds, my paws itching to run.
Soon enough, the three of us — Freya, Rowan, and me — stood in wolf form.
Rowan’s massive black wolf dwarfed both of us.
My dark gray coat was closer to his in color, making Freya’s snow white stand out in contrast. Lightning crackled faintly along her fur, a visual reminder of the power she carried.
Rowan led us out of camp, carefully circling fire pits and passing by the trip wires around the tent stakes. As soon as we reached open ground, we ran.
Cold air rushed past my muzzle as my paws found their rhythm against the frozen ground. The world sharpened into a tapestry of scents — pine needles crushed beneath our feet, the crisp promise of snow on the wind, the mingled scents of my two mates running beside me.
Freya’s white wolf moved like liquid moonlight, her lightning crackling along her fur in playful sparks that had nothing to do with anger or fear.
This was joy, pure and simple. Rowan’s massive black form led us through a path only he seemed to know, his powerful strides eating up ground as he guided us toward higher elevation.
No doubt he’d run out here many times by now.
Through the bonds, I felt their exhilaration match my own.
My beta wolf had been caged for so long that every run still felt like a gift, and sharing it with my mates made it even sweeter.
Rowan sent an image through the Bonded link — a rocky outcropping with a view of the entire valley — and Freya’s excitement pulsed in response.
We raced toward it together, three wolves moving in perfect harmony.
The bonds hummed with shared enjoyment — a light, easy communication of exhilaration and camaraderie.
For a few precious moments, we weren’t the astral and her Bonded mates preparing for war. We were just three wolves running free.
Then Rowan’s wolf went rigid. Fear and rage flooded the bond so suddenly I stumbled. He froze, every muscle locked as he stared at something in the distance. Freya’s lightning shifted from playful blue-white to the deeper, angrier purple that preceded her most destructive magic.
I followed their gazes to the other peak, and my own wolf’s hackles rose. Figures stood silhouetted there — shifters in human form. As soon as they caught sight of us on the opposing peak, they shifted into wolf form. From there, they couldn’t reach us, but it felt like a threat.