Chapter 20
CADE
The ambush hits just before dusk. We’re not even deep into the forest yet—barely a mile past the outer boundary—when everything goes wrong. There’s no warning. No shift in the air.
No sound of movement in the brush. One second we’re tracking a faint trail along the ridge, and the next—
Chaos.
A blur of motion explodes from the trees to our right, fast enough that even with my senses sharpened, I only catch the impact as one of the wolves in front of me goes down hard with a strangled shout.
“Contact!” Nolan barks.
Too late. They’re already on us. Three of them break through the undergrowth in perfect synchronization, not charging blindly but targeting specific positions—cutting us off from each other before we can fully react.
Testing. No. Executing.
I shift partially on instinct, strength surging through my limbs as I intercept the nearest one mid-lunge. The collision rattles through me, its weight heavier than it should be, its body wrong in ways I don’t have time to fully process.
Claws rake across my forearm, slicing through fabric and skin in a shallow but burning line. I don’t feel it. Not yet.
I drive my shoulder forward, slamming the creature sideways into a tree hard enough to crack bark. It rebounds immediately, faster than anything natural, twisting in midair to come at me again.
“Left!” Gideon shouts.
I pivot just in time to see another one break for Nolan, jaws snapping with surgical precision. Nolan ducks low, shifting partially as he counters, but the thing doesn’t retreat—it adapts, adjusting its angle mid-strike.
“They’re coordinating!” he snarls.
“I see that!”
A third hybrid crashes into one of the younger wolves, knocking him flat and going straight for his throat. I don’t think. I move.
Crossing the distance in a heartbeat, I grab the creature by the back of its neck and rip it away, feeling muscle strain under my grip in a way that shouldn’t exist. Too dense. Too reinforced.
It thrashes violently, twisting to snap at me, its jaws grazing my shoulder before I slam it into the ground and drive my claws down through its spine. It jerks. Goes still.
“Down!” I shout.
But the others don’t fall back. They don’t hesitate. They don’t panic. They keep pressing.
That’s when it clicks.
“This isn’t a kill strike!” I bark. “They’re probing us!”
As if on cue, one of the hybrids disengages mid-fight, retreating a step instead of pressing the advantage. Another follows, backing off just enough to avoid being cornered.
“They’re measuring response time,” Nolan says, breath rough. “Movement patterns—”
“And weak points,” Gideon finishes grimly.
Rage spikes sharp and immediate. Not just at the attack— At the intent behind it.
“They don’t leave,” I say, voice low. “Not this time.”
I surge forward, closing the distance on the nearest hybrid before it can fully disengage.
It reacts instantly, pivoting to counter, but I’m already inside its range.
Too fast. Too close. My claws tear through its side, deeper this time, hitting something vital as I drive forward without stopping.
It collapses under the force, its body going slack. The last remaining creature hesitates.
Then it retreats. Not in panic. Not in defeat. In decision. It disappears into the trees before any of us can intercept.
Silence crashes down around us. Heavy. Breathing. Blood.
“Everyone still standing?” I demand.
“Mostly,” Nolan answers, straightening with a grimace. “Couple of hits.”
I turn immediately, scanning the group. Two are down—not dead, but injured badly enough to need help now, not later.
“Get them up,” I say. “We move. Now.”
“No argument there,” Gideon almost whispers, already crouching beside one of them.
We don’t linger. We don’t track. We don’t chase. Because that’s exactly what they want.
The sun has dropped low enough to cast long shadows across the ground. Too close to night. Too close to when they’ll have the advantage.
“They pulled back too clean,” Nolan says as we move quickly through the outskirts.
“Because they got what they came for,” I reply.
“Yeah,” Gideon adds darkly. “A look at how we fight.”
My jaw tightens.
“And how we respond under pressure.”
Which means next time— They’ll be better prepared. Garrett is already waiting when we reach the main clearing, his presence cutting through the growing tension like a blade. His gaze sweeps over us once, taking in the injuries, the blood, the expressions.
“Report.”
“Ambush,” I say. “Small group. Coordinated. Not attempting to kill—testing.”
Garrett’s expression hardens.
“Casualties?”
“Injured,” I answer. “No losses.”
A flicker of relief passes through the group, but it doesn’t last. Because we all know what this means.
“They’re escalating,” Nolan says.
“They’re studying us,” Gideon adds.
Garrett nods once, slow and deliberate.
“And preparing.”
Silence falls across the clearing as the weight of that settles in. I step forward slightly.
“There’s more,” I say.
His attention shifts fully to me.
“There’s an alpha,” I continue. “Larger than anything we’ve seen. It’s controlling them.”
Murmurs ripple through the gathered wolves. Garrett doesn’t react immediately.
“Confirmed?” he asks.
“Yes.”
A pause. Then—
“How close?”
“Closer than we want it to be.”
That’s enough. Garrett turns, raising his voice just enough to carry across the clearing.
“Pack council. Now.”
The shift is immediate. Conversations stop. Movement redirects. Everyone understands the gravity of that call. This isn’t routine anymore. This is war.
The council gathers quickly, forming a tight circle beneath the fading light. Garrett’s presence is steady, commanding attention without effort.
“We are no longer dealing with isolated threats,” he says. “What we face is organized. Directed. Intentional.”
No one interrupts. No one questions. Because we’ve all seen it now.
“They have tested our defenses,” he continues. “They have measured our response. And they will come again.”
A beat. Stronger this time.
“In force.”
The word lands like a blow.
“We will not wait for that to happen unprepared,” Garrett says. “We fortify. We expand patrols. We secure the town.”
His gaze sweeps across the group.
“No one moves alone. No one takes unnecessary risks. We hold this territory.”
My chest tightens slightly as his words settle. Because I know what comes next. What isn’t being said out loud. But Nolan says it anyway.
“And the humans?”
Garrett’s expression doesn’t change.
“We prepare evacuation protocols,” he says. “If the line breaks, we remove them before it reaches the town center.”
A ripple of tension moves through the group. Because that line— That threshold— Means everything has already gone wrong. My gaze drifts, just for a moment. Toward where I know Eliza is. Safe. For now. Then I look back at Garrett.
“They’re coming soon,” I say.
Not a guess. Not a theory. A certainty. Garrett meets my gaze.
“I know.”
Silence settles over the council. Heavy. Final. Because we’ve crossed the point where this can be contained quietly. Where it can be handled in the shadows. This is something else now.
Something bigger. Something that’s going to hit us head-on. Garrett’s voice cuts through the quiet one last time.
“Prepare yourselves,” he says. “Because when they come—”
His gaze hardens, something ancient and unyielding rising beneath the surface.
“We end this.”
And standing there, surrounded by the pack, with the weight of what’s coming pressing down from all sides— I know one thing with absolute certainty.
They’re right to be preparing for war. Because that’s exactly what this is going to be.
The council begins to break apart, but the tension doesn’t ease with it.
If anything, it settles deeper. Heavier.
Conversations stay low, urgent, wolves moving with purpose instead of routine. Patrols are reassigned before the last words have even finished echoing through the clearing, and I can feel the shift ripple outward through the pack like a pulse.
This isn’t preparation anymore. It’s mobilization. Nolan falls into step beside me as I turn away from the circle.
“Well,” he drags a hand through his hair, “that escalated fast.”
“It was always going to.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Just didn’t expect it to feel this… final.”
I don’t answer that. Because he’s not wrong. Gideon joins us a moment later, his expression set.
“Perimeter teams are doubling up,” he says. “No gaps. No blind spots.”
“Good,” I reply.
“They won’t hit where we’re strongest,” he adds. “They’ll look for weakness.”
“They won’t find one,” I say.
Gideon glances at me, something sharp flickering in his eyes.
“They already have,” he says quietly.
The words hit exactly where they’re meant to. I don’t react. Not outwardly. But my wolf stirs beneath the surface, restless now, alert in a way that borders on dangerous.
“Eliza isn’t a weakness,” I say.
“No,” Gideon agrees. “She’s a target.”
Silence stretches between us. Because there’s no arguing with that. Nolan exhales slowly.
“Then we make sure she’s the one thing they can’t get to,” he says.
My jaw tightens slightly.
“They won’t.”
Not a possibility. Not a risk. A fact. Because whatever this turns into— However bad it gets— There is one line I will not let them cross.
I turn toward the direction of the clinic without another word, already moving.
Nolan doesn’t stop me. Gideon doesn’t question it.
They both know where I’m going. And why.
Because the war might be coming for Silver Ridge— But for me— It’s already narrowed down to one thing. Protecting her. At any cost.