Chapter 44 Feray #2
My pack-mates gaze at it with wide eyes, fear and awe warring in their thoughts.
The creature is frozen mid-strike, its massive jaws open, its barbed body coiled to attack—captured forever in the moment before death.
Through the bond, I share the story of that battle.
The memory of Khal slithering through the darkness, of his eyes flaring with deadly power, of the worm turning to stone mere feet from where it would have killed me.
Their fear shifts to reverence—a respect for Khal that wasn't there before, an understanding of what he truly is beneath the charming smiles and expensive suits. I feel a flicker of pride from him through our bond, a quiet acknowledgment of his own worth that he so rarely allows himself.
For once, Khal sees himself as I do. Not a monster. A protector. A warrior. One of us.
The sharp clatter of rocks tumbling down the mountain snaps my focus upward as we emerge from the cavern into the pale daylight.
My breath catches as I spot Diaval ascending once more, his dark wings cutting through the sky with powerful strokes.
He circles above us, his shadow a reassuring presence that flits across the snow-dusted ground, before dipping lower to glide effortlessly over our heads.
He's checking on us. Ensuring we're all safe before pushing ahead to scout the terrain. My heart swells with love for him—this ancient, terrifying creature who tends to me with such careful devotion.
I reach through the bond to Alec and Dorian, touching their minds across the distance. We're nearing Dunnum. Diaval's dragon will land on the outskirts soon.
Their responses are swift and calm, the practiced efficiency of betas who know their roles.
They relay the information to the rest of the pack, ensuring everything will be ready for our arrival.
By my estimate, we have about forty-five minutes left if we maintain this pace.
The rhythmic crunch of snow under our paws soothes me as we run, a steady beat that drowns out everything else—the cold, the fear, the weight of what's waiting for us in the south.
Here, running with my pack, leading them toward home—I'm exactly where I belong.
When the first houses on the outskirts of Dunnum appear in the distance, I slow, signaling the others to stop.
The sight of the town—familiar yet transformed by the weight of our journey—triggers something primal within me.
An instinct older than language, older than thought.
I lift my head to the sky and let out a howl.
The sound tears through the still air like a blade, echoing off the mountains, announcing our arrival to everyone within hearing distance.
One by one, the wolves beside me join in, their voices melding with mine into a chorus that speaks of survival and triumph and the unbreakable bonds that tie us together.
When the last echoes fade, we wait.
The silence stretches, taut as a bowstring—and then Alec's howl rises in the distance, answered by Dorian's, and then the rest of the Dunnum pack.
Even Torben's bear lets out a low, rumbling call that makes me chuckle despite everything.
They must have him hauling the sled with our supplies again.
My poor, long-suffering bear. A few sharp barks escape me, and we're moving once more, the houses growing larger as we approach.
Both dens—Dunnum and Crescent Valley—feel like home to me now.
It's a strange but comforting realization, this sense of belonging that I've found here in the north.
A freedom, an acceptance, that I never knew existed.
As we breach the main part of town, I shift mid-step, grateful that my clothing remains intact.
The cold hits my human skin immediately, but I barely feel it.
Dorian and Alec approach swiftly, bowing in unison. "Luna."
I nod, already focused on what needs to be done. "We need housing for the night for the wolves I brought from Crescent Valley. Is everything prepared?"
Alec steps forward. "We turned the alpha house into temporary housing. There are some beds, but it's mostly set up for them to sleep in their wolf forms, given the tight timetable."
"It's perfect." I glance toward my father's house, where my mates are already headed, their silhouettes visible through the frosted windows. "We'll sleep there tonight."
I turn to Dorian. "How did the hunters fare?"
His grin is broad and genuine. "Fantastic.
That herd of sheep was exactly where you said it would be.
We've got enough meat to feed everyone for the next month.
Left three ewes and a ram alive to replenish the herd.
" Pride swells within me. These are my people.
This is what leadership should look like.
A young woman emerges from a nearby restaurant, a steaming bread bowl cradled in her hands. She approaches with wide, awe-struck eyes. "Luna, I made this for you. It's lamb stew with barley. It'll warm you up after your long run."
I take the bowl, and as our cheeks brush in a gesture of gratitude, I rumble softly. "Thank you, truly, for all that you and your mate are doing." I press a gentle kiss to her cheek before straightening.
She bows deeply, her voice trembling with emotion. "You honor us greatly, Luna."
As she hurries back inside, Alec chuckles. "You've given her a memory she'll never forget. Most Lunas wouldn't even acknowledge a lesser wolf."
His words strike a nerve, and I freeze mid-sip.
A low growl rumbles from my chest as I turn to face him, my eyes blazing with sudden fury.
"I was treated as less than nothing for years," I say, each word dropping like ice into the space between us.
"Tortured by those who thought themselves superior.
Poisoned. Hunted. Made to believe I was worthless. "
My canines flash as I speak, anger simmering just below the surface—anger at every council member who knew what I was, every witch who drew my blood, every person who looked at me and saw nothing worth saving.
"No one is lesser under my watch. Not a single wolf in my pack. If I find out anyone is abusing my people—anyone treating them as less than they are—I will rip their fucking throats out." Alec wisely steps back, his earlier amusement vanishing.
Good.
I turn away, needing distance before the rage spills over into something I can't control. The councils made me feel worthless for years. I will never—never—let anyone in my pack experience that same pain. As I approach my father's house, I pause, taking in the scene through the frosted window.
My mates are inside, moving about the kitchen with an ease that speaks of comfort and familiarity.
Torben is setting the table, his massive hands gentle with the delicate plates.
Khal is warming something on the stove, stirring with focused attention.
Easton and Diaval are talking quietly in the corner, their heads bent close together.
The sight stills something deep inside me.
This is what family should look like. This is what I remember from before—before the fire, before the loss, before everything turned to ashes and I was left alone in a world that didn't want me. A sense of peace washes over me, momentarily calming the storm that lives beneath my skin.
We still have a war to fight. The councils are still out there, plotting our destruction, hunting us with monsters and magic and the kind of cruelty that spans generations.
But right now, in this moment, I have everything I need.
A pack that would follow me into hell. Mates who would burn the world to keep me safe.
And a home—two homes now—where I finally belong.
The councils have no idea what's coming for them.
But they will.
Soon.