The battlefield was quiet, eerily so. The wind carried the metallic scent of blood, and the once-proud wolves of Rahul's pack now lay scattered across the ground. Derek, though victorious, knew this was far from over. The death of Rahul had created a vacuum, a dangerous one, and those who had followed the fallen alpha were still a threat.
Derek stood tall, his chest heaving as he surveyed the scene. His sharp, dark eyes darted from one corpse to another, but he could still sense it—the presence of those who had not yet accepted their defeat. The survivors of Rahul's pack were still out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for their moment.
Aric approached, his face grim. "Alpha, Rahul's death won't stop them. His pack… they're more feral than ever. They'll seek revenge."
Derek nodded, his expression hard. "Let them come. I won't let this pack—my pack—fall to the likes of them."
