Ethan sat in the pack's war room, the faint hum of fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow over the table strewn with maps, notes, and surveillance reports. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest of his chair, his mind spinning through endless scenarios. The enemy had breached their borders, sent a warning, and then disappeared into the night like smoke.
But it wasn't just the act itself that troubled Ethan. It was the precision—the calculated way they had drawn his pack's attention and then retreated. They weren't dealing with mindless beasts. This was strategy, pure and deliberate.
The door creaked open, and Amelia entered, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of documents in the other. She set the cup down in front of him without a word, taking her seat across the table.
"We've combed the area three times now," she began, flipping open a folder. "No tracks, no physical evidence other than the breach itself. Whatever they used to burn through the barriers isn't something we've seen before."
Ethan picked up a photograph from the pile—a close-up of the jagged scorch marks left on the shattered wood. The patterns were irregular, almost organic, like claw marks that burned as they tore.
"Magic," Ethan muttered, his voice tinged with frustration.
Amelia nodded. "That's our best guess. If it is, it's not something we're familiar with. We'd need someone with deeper knowledge of witchcraft or spellwork to even begin to identify it."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "And that means bringing in outsiders, which I'm not prepared to do. Not yet."
Amelia hesitated. "There is someone already here who might know something."
Ethan didn't need her to say the name. His wolf bristled instinctively.
"Lila," he said, his tone heavy with reluctance.
"She's been right so far," Amelia pointed out carefully. "And if she's connected to this, she might have insight we don't."
Ethan leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. He hated how logical Amelia's suggestion was. He hated even more that it meant relying on someone he still didn't trust.
"Fine," he said at last. "Bring her in."
Lila arrived minutes later, her expression calm but curious. She moved with an unhurried grace, as if she was completely at ease despite the tension that hung in the room.
"You summoned me?" she asked, her voice carrying a faint edge of amusement.
Ethan didn't bother with pleasantries. He slid the photograph across the table toward her. "What do you make of this?"
Lila picked up the photo, her dark eyes scanning it carefully. For a moment, she said nothing, and Ethan's impatience began to simmer.
"Well?" he prompted.
"This is… old magic," Lila said finally, setting the photograph down. "Something primal. Whoever did this isn't just using spells—they're channeling raw energy. Dangerous, unstable."
"And how do we stop it?" Amelia asked.
Lila's lips curved into a faint smile. "You don't. Not unless you know what you're dealing with. And right now, you don't."
Ethan's wolf growled low in his chest, the sound barely audible but enough to make Lila's eyes flick toward him.
"Then help us figure it out," Ethan said, his voice steady but laced with warning. "If you're going to stay here, you'll start pulling your weight."
Lila's smile didn't waver, but her gaze sharpened. "I've been pulling my weight, Ethan. You just haven't noticed."
The tension between them crackled like static, and Amelia cleared her throat awkwardly. "Maybe we should focus on the task at hand."
Ethan forced himself to take a breath, his wolf reluctantly retreating. "What do we need to know?"
"First, you need to understand that whoever did this isn't working alone," Lila said. "This kind of magic requires coordination, resources, and sacrifice. They're organized, and they're patient."
"Sacrifice?" Amelia repeated, her brow furrowing.
Lila nodded. "Magic like this always comes with a cost. Blood, pain, life—it's the fuel that powers the spell. The more powerful the magic, the higher the price."
Ethan's mind raced, piecing together the implications. If their enemies were willing to pay such a steep price, it meant their goals were equally ambitious.
"What are they after?" he asked.
Lila's expression darkened. "You. Your pack. Your territory. But it's more than that. They're not just trying to destroy you—they're trying to dismantle everything you stand for. To make an example of you."
The weight of her words settled over the room like a heavy fog. Ethan felt his wolf stir again, not with anger this time, but with a fierce determination.
"They'll regret it," he said quietly.
The next few days passed in a blur of preparation and vigilance. Patrols were doubled, traps were set, and the packhouse became a fortress. Ethan barely slept, his mind consumed with strategy and the gnawing sense that time was running out.
Lila, to her credit, threw herself into the work without complaint. She spent hours poring over ancient texts, searching for any clue that might shed light on their enemies. Ethan still didn't trust her, but he couldn't deny her usefulness.
One evening, as the pack gathered for a strategy meeting, a low howl echoed through the air. It was a sound of warning, sharp and urgent.
Ethan was on his feet in an instant, his wolf surging to the surface. "Stay here," he ordered the others. "Amelia, you're with me."
They raced toward the western edge of the territory, where the howl had originated. The air grew colder as they approached, a biting chill that set Ethan's nerves on edge.
When they arrived, they found two of their wolves standing over a body—a young male, barely out of his teens. His throat had been torn out, and his lifeless eyes stared up at the sky.
Amelia's breath hitched. "Who is he?"
Ethan knelt beside the body, his hands clenching into fists. "Jacob," he said quietly. "One of the scouts."
The scent of blood was fresh, mingled with something else—something sharp and acrid that burned Ethan's nostrils. It was the same scent they had found at the breach.
"This wasn't a random kill," Ethan said, his voice low. "They're sending a message."
Amelia's eyes hardened. "Then let's send one back."
Ethan stood, his wolf snarling just beneath the surface. "We will. But not on their terms."
He turned to the other wolves. "Get Jacob back to the packhouse. No one goes anywhere alone. From now on, we move as one."
As they carried the body away, Ethan lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on the blood-soaked ground. His wolf growled softly, a vow of vengeance echoing in his mind.
Whoever had done this would pay.