In the dense woods, the makeshift camp that Barry's pack calls home is alive with tension.
The towering trees cast long shadows as dusk settles, and the air hums with the low growls and whispers of restless werewolves.
Around a flickering fire, the pack gathers, their expressions a mix of frustration and unease.
"How long is he going to be like this?" a lean, wiry member asks, his voice edged with impatience. "We can't keep hiding out here like we're some kind of lost puppies."
"As long as revenge keeps us here," another replies, his tone resigned. "We owe it to those we lost."
"But what revenge?" the first snaps. "He just sits there, staring at nothing all day. Ordering us to kill every cop we come across isn't a plan—it's chaos. Meanwhile, we're stuck out here, waiting for something that might never come."
The group murmurs in agreement, their frustration simmering.
Another voice breaks through, softer but laden with sorrow. "Man, I still can't believe Ace is gone. This must be tearing Barry apart."
"Maybe," someone else chimes in, "but we should be worried about what happens if we're attacked. Barry's barely been himself since Ace died. Can he even protect us anymore? We need to think about our future."
"Does it really matter?" a gruff voice cuts in. "When Ace was alive, I never saw Barry show any real concern for him. So why's he grieving like this now?"
"For heaven's sake!" an older wolf growls, his fists clenching. "Can we stop talking about Ace? He's gone. Dead. We should focus on surviving, not—"
"Do not let me hear you say that again."
Barry's voice slices through the camp like a blade, hoarse and low but heavy with authority.
The group goes silent, startled by his sudden presence.
He steps into the light of the fire, his face shadowed but his eyes blazing with fury. His broad shoulders are tense, and even in his disheveled state, he radiates power.
"Alpha…" one of them stammers, lowering his gaze in submission. "We didn't mean any disrespect."
Barry's lips curl into a snarl, exposing sharp teeth. "You think I don't hear you? Whispering like cowards, doubting my leadership? Ace's death wasn't just a loss—it was a betrayal. And I will not tolerate anyone questioning what needs to be done."
The group shifts uncomfortably, but no one dares speak. Barry's voice grows quieter, more dangerous. "The humans took everything from us. They wiped out our families, our homes. And now you're asking why I grieve? Ace was more than just a packmate. He was my brother in all but blood. I will avenge him—and all of you—when the time is right."
One of the younger wolves hesitates before speaking, his voice trembling. "But Alpha… killing random police officers doesn't feel like justice. It feels… reckless."
Barry turns to him slowly, his gaze cold. "Do you think they cared about justice when they slaughtered our kind? When they burned our villages and called it 'duty'? Every uniform we destroy is one less enemy standing in our way."
"But what about the Hunters'?" another asks, his voice rising. "We've been striking at the police, and you haven't said anything about Jonathan Hunter who you said he is your primary enemy, he must be planning something, he is the real threat , why don't we start with him! And his family."
Barry's jaw tightens, and for a moment, he says nothing. Then he exhales sharply, his voice measured. "Jonathan Hunter will come. With his force again, And when they do, we will be ready. Every cop we take down weakens their defenses. Every strike sends a message. They think they can erase us, but they are wrong."
The pack exchanges uneasy glances. One of the older wolves steps forward, his tone cautious but firm. "Alpha, we're with you. Always. But we need more than revenge—we need strategy. We need a plan that keeps us alive."
Barry's gaze softens slightly, though his expression remains guarded. In cases like this, Ace would do whatever it takes to help him come up with everything together. "You're right. Blind rage won't win this war. But make no mistake—this is a war. And we will fight it on our terms."
He turns away, pacing as he speaks. "The police are only the beginning. We'll disrupt their operations, weaken their resolve. Then, when the time comes, we'll turn our focus to the Hunters'. They think they know us, but they have no idea what we're capable of."
"What about alliances?" a voice asks hesitantly. "There are other packs out there—packs that have suffered like us. If we united…"
Barry stops abruptly, his back to the group. "No," he says firmly. "Alliances make us vulnerable. We rely on no one but ourselves."
The group falls silent again, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. Barry's shoulders sag slightly, and for a moment, he looks almost… human. Then he straightens, his voice sharp once more. "Rest tonight. Tomorrow, we move. We've lingered here long enough."
"Move where?" someone asks cautiously.
Barry's lips curl into a grim smile. "To the city. It's time we reminded them that we're not prey—they are."
The pack disperses reluctantly, their murmurs fading into the night. Barry stays behind, staring into the fire.
His mind is a storm of grief and anger, memories of Ace haunting him at every turn. He clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms.
"I failed you," he whispers to the flames. "But I won't fail again. I'll make them pay, Ace. For you. For all of us."
As the fire crackles and the forest around him hums with life, Barry's resolve hardens. The pack may doubt him, but he knows one thing for certain: this war is far from over.