Chapter 28
CADE
The full pack council is called before nightfall. Not a partial briefing. Not a small tactical meeting. Everyone. That alone tells me how far things have escalated.
By the time I step into the main hall, the room is already filling—wolves lining the perimeter, voices low, tension woven through every movement. This isn’t fear. It’s readiness.
The kind that comes just before something breaks.
Garrett stands at the front, unmoving, his presence enough to keep the room from tipping into chaos.
Nolan leans against one of the support beams, arms crossed, watching everything with that same sharp awareness he always carries.
Gideon stands closer to the center, shoulders squared, expression set.
I take my place without needing direction. The room quiets as Garrett lifts his hand slightly.
“We don’t have the luxury of waiting any longer,” he says.
No buildup. No easing into it. Just truth.
“The attacks are increasing,” he continues. “Closer to town. More frequent. More coordinated.”
A murmur ripples briefly through the room before settling again.
“They’re not testing in isolation anymore,” Garrett adds. “They’re building toward something.”
I step forward.
“Toward a coordinated assault,” I say.
Garrett nods once, giving me the floor. Every gaze in the room shifts. I don’t hesitate.
“We’ve confirmed multiple hybrid units operating in structured patterns,” I begin. “Scouts, hunting pairs, rotating pressure points along the perimeter.”
I let that sink in before continuing.
“They’re not moving randomly. They’re mapping us. Learning how we respond.”
A few of the wolves exchange looks. Not surprised. But hearing it stated plainly makes it real in a way reports don’t.
“They’ve already started adjusting based on what they’ve learned,” I add. “Faster strikes. Shorter engagements. Strategic withdrawals.”
Gideon nods slightly.
“We’ve seen the same,” he says. “They don’t linger anymore.”
“Because they don’t need to,” I reply.
I glance briefly at Garrett, then back to the pack.
“There’s something else,” I say.
This is the part that shifts everything.
“The hybrids aren’t acting independently.”
The room stills.
“They’re being directed.”
That lands harder.
“How?” someone asks from the back.
I don’t answer immediately. Because this isn’t speculation anymore.
“This morning, we confirmed the presence of a larger entity near the canyon staging area,” I say. “Significantly larger than the others. More aggressive. More controlled.”
Nolan pushes off the beam slightly.
“The one that killed its own,” he adds.
A ripple of unease moves through the room.
“They found a partially consumed hybrid,” he continues. “No signs of struggle. It was dominance, not conflict.”
“Which means hierarchy,” Gideon says.
“Exactly,” I reply.
I let the conclusion settle before stating it plainly.
“There’s an alpha.”
Silence follows. Not disbelief. Recognition. Because every wolf in this room understands what that means. A pack without leadership is dangerous. A pack with it— That’s something else entirely.
“How strong?” another voice asks.
“Stronger than anything we’ve faced from them so far,” I answer. “And if it’s controlling the others, then every movement they make comes back to it.”
Garrett steps forward slightly.
“And if it moves,” he says, “they all move.”
“Yes.”
That’s the problem. That’s the threat. Not scattered attacks. Not isolated predators. A unified force.
“Then we take it out,” someone says.
The simplicity of that statement almost draws a grim kind of approval. But it’s not that simple.
“Eventually,” I say. “Yes.”
A few heads turn at that.
“But not without a plan,” I continue. “Not without understanding how it operates first.”
Gideon exhales through his nose.
“You want to study it.”
“I want to kill it,” I correct. “But I want to do it in a way that doesn’t get half the pack killed in the process.”
That quiets the room again. Because that’s the line we’re walking now. Precision. Not brute force. Garrett folds his arms slightly.
“What else?” he asks.
I hesitate. Then say it.
“Eliza confirmed something this afternoon,” I say.
That gets their attention in a different way.
“About the hybrids,” I continue. “They’re not just altered. They were engineered.”
A shift moves through the room. Different from before. Heavier.
“Engineered how?” Gideon asks.
“Surgically,” I reply. “Genetically. Behaviorally.”
“That’s not possible,” someone heaves in disbelief.
“It is,” I say flatly. “And it’s already been done.”
I don’t elaborate further than that. I don’t need to. Because the implication is clear. This isn’t natural. It never was.
“They were designed to hunt,” I continue. “To track. To respond to stimuli in controlled ways.”
“And someone is controlling them?” another voice asks.
“Or was,” I say. “We don’t know yet.”
That uncertainty doesn’t sit well. Because an unknown threat is always worse than a known one. Garrett steps forward again.
“Regardless of origin,” he says, “they are here now.”
The focus shifts back where it needs to be.
“They are moving toward our territory,” he continues. “Toward our town.”
His gaze sweeps across the room.
“And we will not abandon it.”
A low murmur of agreement rises. Not loud. But solid. Gideon steps forward slightly.
“There’s another option,” he says.
Garrett looks at him.
“Say it.”
Gideon’s expression doesn’t change.
“We relocate the humans,” he says. “Move them out before the attack hits.”
The room stills again. Because that’s not an unreasonable suggestion. From a tactical standpoint— It makes sense. Fewer variables. Fewer liabilities. Safer engagement zones. I speak before Garrett does.
“No.”
Gideon’s gaze shifts to me.
“No?” he repeats.
“No,” I say again, steady.
“Explain.”
I hold his gaze.
“If we pull the humans out, we lose control of the terrain,” I say. “We create gaps in our coverage. We give the hybrids more room to move without resistance.”
“That’s a risk we can manage,” Gideon counters.
“Not if they follow,” I reply.
That lands. Because it’s the part no one wants to say out loud.
“They’re already tracking Eliza,” I continue. “If they’re being directed, then they’re not just targeting territory—they’re targeting a specific scent.”
A few wolves glance toward each other. Understanding settling in.
“If we move the humans,” I say, “we risk leading the hybrids somewhere else.”
“Spreading the problem,” Nolan states.
“Yes.”
Gideon exhales sharply.
“So we keep them here instead?”
“We protect them here,” I correct.
That’s the difference. That’s the line. Garrett watches the exchange without interrupting.
Then—
“We hold the territory,” he says.
The decision lands like a final piece clicking into place. No debate. No reconsideration.
This is it.
“We defend the mountain,” Garrett continues. “And we eliminate the threat before it spreads.”
A low, steady agreement moves through the room. Not loud. Not chaotic. Certain. Garrett’s gaze shifts to me again.
“Cade.”
I step forward.
“You’ve led every engagement so far,” he says. “You’ve seen how they move. How they adapt.”
I nod once.
“You’ll take command of battle strategy,” he says.
The room stills. Even though, at this point, it shouldn’t be a surprise. Not after the last few days. Not after everything that’s already shifted. Still— Hearing it stated like that makes it real in a different way.
“Understood,” I say.
Garrett studies me.
“This won’t be contained to the edges,” he adds. “If they breach, you make the call on how we respond.”
“I will.”
“No hesitation,” he says.
“None.”
A beat passes. Then he nods.
“Good.”
He turns back to the pack.
“Prepare yourselves,” he says.
Three simple words. But they carry everything. Because this isn’t planning anymore. It’s inevitability. The meeting breaks not long after that, but no one disperses immediately. They move with purpose. Groups forming. Assignments already taking shape.
The air feels different now. Not tense. Not uncertain. Focused. Like a line has been drawn and everyone knows exactly where they stand. I step outside, the cool night air hitting harder than expected after the heat of the room. Footsteps follow. Nolan.
“Command, huh?” he says.
“Looks like it.”
He studies me.
“You good with that?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation. Because there isn’t any. He nods slowly.
“Then we do this right.”
“Yeah,” I reply.
We both look out toward the dark line of the forest. Toward the canyon beyond it. Toward what’s coming.
“They’re going to hit hard,” Nolan says.
“I know.”
“And fast.”
“Yeah.”
A pause. Then—
“You thinking about going after the alpha first?” he asks.
I don’t answer immediately. Because I’ve already thought about it. More than once.
“Yes,” I say finally.
Nolan exhales.
“Figured.”
“It’s the key,” I continue. “Take it out, the rest lose structure.”
“Or they go feral,” he counters.
“Either way,” I say, “we break their coordination.”
He nods.
“Fair.”
Another silence settles. Not uncomfortable. Just heavy with what’s ahead.
“This is it, isn’t it?” Nolan says after a moment.
I don’t look at him. I don’t need to.
“Yeah,” I say.
It is. Everything we’ve been tracking. Everything we’ve been preparing for. All of it is leading to one moment. One confrontation. One fight that decides whether Silver Ridge holds—
Or falls. And this time— There won’t be any more testing.
No more probing attacks. No more calculated retreats. Just the full force of what they’ve been building. Coming straight for us.