Chapter 18
The tension returned like an old wound—slow, aching, familiar.
Everyone could feel it.
The laughter that had once echoed through the village grew quieter. The wolves began sleeping closer to the center, ears perked for sounds that didn’t belong. Even the children picked up on it, their games softer, their questions sharper.
“Will they come soon?” one of the boys asked me, clutching a stick like a sword.
I knelt beside him, brushing the hair from his eyes.
“They might,” I said honestly. “But we’ll be ready.”
Because that was the truth now—we didn’t hide behind lies or false comfort. We had learned to live in truth, no matter how bitter.
He worked day and night preparing the defenses. The borders were marked, new traps set along the paths, the scouts on rotating shifts. I helped organize the safe cabins, places where the wounded or the children could be kept hidden if the worst came.
But still, something felt wrong.
The captured scout hadn’t spoken since that day. He ate only when forced, refused to answer questions, and sat by the window of his cell watching the woods like he was waiting for a signal.
And one evening, it came.
A fire on the ridge. Small. Distant.
A sign.
He saw it and smiled.
We moved instantly.
That night, we gathered the pack—every single one. No one would be caught off guard.
He stood in the center of them all, his voice firm but calm.
“They’re coming,” he said. “Radek’s remnants—or worse. We don’t know how many. We don’t know when. But we know why. They want to break what we’ve built.”
He turned slowly, his eyes sweeping the crowd. “Let them try.”
A low rumble of agreement rippled through the wolves.
“This isn’t a prison anymore. This is a home. This is a future. And no one is taking it from us.”
They roared—softly at first, then louder, deeper. It wasn’t just battle rage. It was pride.
And it burned hotter than fear.
He turned to me as the others scattered to their posts.
“You don’t have to fight,” he said gently.
I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t insult me.”
He grinned, though his eyes remained heavy. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”
I nodded. “And I’m not stopping now.”
That night, we slept in shifts. Every sound outside the walls made our skin prickle. Every breeze through the trees felt like a whisper of war.
But in that silence, something else stirred too.
Strength.
The kind that only comes after being broken. The kind that survives cages and chains and still learns to stand tall.
I stood at the edge of the village before dawn, the wind tugging at my hair, eyes locked on the dark line of trees beyond the ridge.
Whatever came for us next…
They wouldn’t find the victims they expected.
They’d find wolves reborn in fire.