Chapter 22
Coming back felt like stepping into a dream we’d only dared to imagine.
The village no longer looked like a refuge for the broken—it looked like a stronghold. The walls were higher, reinforced with stone and timber. Watchtowers stood tall at the edges. Wolves trained side by side, young and old, experienced and new. And they weren’t just surviving.
They were thriving.
Children ran past us with makeshift swords, laughing, their faces free of the fear we had once worn like skin. The gardens had grown, neat rows of green stretching toward the cabins. New hands had joined the work—wolves from Blackpine, from the Ember Fangs, and even wanderers with no pack to claim.
We walked through the heart of it all, greeted with nods, smiles, even a few tears. Every face we passed reminded me why we had risked everything to leave in the first place.
They believed in us.
At the center of it all, near the largest fire pit, stood Mira—one of the wolves we’d rescued from the pit over a year ago. She had been quiet back then, barely able to speak. But now she stood tall, confident, leading a group of new arrivals.
When she saw us, she ran over, throwing her arms around me. “You came back.”
“We said we would,” I whispered.
She pulled back with misty eyes. “You missed it. A scout came two days ago. From the Northern Wastes. They heard what you did to Radek. They want to talk.”
My heart caught. The Northern Wastes were once thought unreachable—packs out there had long abandoned any idea of unity.
Until now.
He stepped up beside us, his gaze narrowing with understanding. “It’s spreading.”
Hope. Word of what we’d done. Word of what we were building.
That night, the village gathered around the great fire. The sky above was clear, the stars bright. The air buzzed not with tension—but with possibility.
He stood before them, no longer just our protector—but our Alpha in every way that mattered.
“We thought we were alone,” he said, voice steady and low. “We thought survival was the best we could ask for. But look around.”
He swept a hand toward the crowd.
“We have something greater now. A community. A future. But it’s not just ours anymore. Other packs are listening. Watching. Wondering if they, too, can have what we’ve built.”
His eyes met mine, and for a moment, we both smiled.
“We don’t just have a home,” he said. “We have a movement.”
The cheers rose, howls of pride echoing into the woods.
And as I stood there, wrapped in warmth and unity, I felt it in my bones—
This wasn’t the end of our story.
This was the spark.
And we were ready to set the world on fire.
Not with war.
But with hope.