The camp had transformed in a matter of hours, its usual rhythm replaced by the clatter of weapons being sharpened, the low murmurs of strategy, and the occasional snarl of wolves preparing for the fight. Saoirse stood at the edge of the clearing, her hands clenched at her sides, watching as Declan moved among his pack. He was everywhere at once-issuing orders, inspecting defenses, and offering words of encouragement to his warriors. His presence was a steadying force, a beacon in the chaos, and yet Saoirse couldn't shake the gnawing guilt that twisted her insides.
This was her doing. These wolves-Declan's pack-were risking their lives because of her. She'd fled Erynn's Veil seeking freedom, but instead, she'd brought war to a pack that had offered her sanctuary. The weight of it pressed against her chest, making it hard to breathe.
A shadow fell over her, and she turned to find Aisling standing nearby, a bow slung over her shoulder and a quiver of arrows at her hip. The woman's auburn braid gleamed in the sunlight, and her expression was a mix of determination and lingering skepticism.
"You look like you're about to bolt," Aisling said, her tone blunt but not unkind. "If you're thinking of running again, now's not the time."
Saoirse shook her head, her voice quiet but firm. "I'm not running. Not anymore."
Aisling raised an eyebrow, studying her. "Good. Because we need every pair of hands we can get. Even an omega's."
The words stung, a reminder of the role Saoirse had been forced into her entire life-weak, submissive, a tool for others to wield. But she straightened, meeting Aisling's gaze. "I'm more than just an omega," she said. "I can fight."
Aisling's lips twitched, a hint of a smirk breaking through her stern demeanor. "We'll see about that. Come with me."
She led Saoirse to a makeshift armory near the center of the camp, where a group of wolves were distributing weapons. Aisling handed her a short dagger, its blade worn but sharp. "It's not much," she said, "but it'll do if they get close. Stay near Declan. He'll keep you alive."
Saoirse took the dagger, testing its weight in her hand. It felt foreign, but she gripped it tightly, determined to prove she wasn't helpless. "Thank you," she said, her voice steady.
Aisling nodded, her expression softening slightly. "Don't thank me yet. Thank me when we're still breathing tomorrow."
Before Saoirse could respond, a sharp whistle cut through the air. Declan stood at the edge of the camp, his warriors gathered around him. His voice carried over the crowd, strong and unwavering. "Cillian's pack is coming. They think they can take what's ours, break what we've built. But Lugh's Claw doesn't bend. We don't break. We fight as one, and we protect our own. Are you with me?"
A chorus of growls and shouts erupted from the pack, their loyalty to Declan palpable. Saoirse felt a surge of pride, mixed with fear, as she watched them rally around their alpha. She moved closer, drawn to Declan's side as if by instinct. He glanced at her, his green eyes softening for a moment before returning to the task at hand.
"Conall, take the eastern flank," he ordered. "Aisling, the northern. I'll lead the center. We hold them at the border."
The warriors dispersed, moving with practiced efficiency. Declan turned to Saoirse, his expression unreadable.
"Stay with me," he said, echoing Aisling's earlier words. "If it comes to it, use that dagger."
Saoirse nodded, her grip tightening on the weapon. "I will."
They moved toward the northern border, where the trees grew thick and the ground sloped upward. The pack spread out, taking up positions behind natural cover-rocks, fallen logs, and dense underbrush. Saoirse crouched beside Declan, her heart pounding as the distant howls of Cillian's warriors grew louder, closer.
The first wave broke through the trees like a storm. Wolves, massive and snarling, charged toward Lugh's Claw, their eyes glowing with feral intent. Declan shifted in an instant, his black fur rippling as he leapt forward to meet them. The clash was immediate and brutal-teeth snapped, claws raked, and blood stained the forest floor.
Saoirse stayed low, her dagger clutched tightly as she watched the battle unfold. Declan fought with a ferocity that took her breath away, his movements a deadly dance of power and precision. He took down two wolves in quick succession, their bodies crumpling to the ground as he turned to face the next threat.
A scream drew her attention to the left, where Aisling was locked in combat with a massive gray wolf. The woman's bow lay discarded, and she wielded a short sword with deadly skill, parrying the wolf's attacks. But another enemy was closing in from behind, its jaws open for a strike.
Saoirse didn't think. She surged forward, her dagger flashing as she drove it into the second wolf's flank. The beast yelped, twisting toward her, but she yanked the blade free and stabbed again, aiming for its throat. Blood sprayed across her hands, warm and sticky, and the wolf collapsed, its breaths ragged and fading.
Aisling finished off her opponent and turned to Saoirse, her eyes wide with surprise. "Not bad, omega," she said, a grudging respect in her voice. "Keep moving."
Saoirse nodded, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She turned back to the battle, her gaze finding Declan. He was surrounded by three wolves, their teeth bared as they circled him. Fear gripped her, but before she could move, he lunged, taking down one with a swift bite to the neck. The other two attacked, and Saoirse's heart leapt into her throat as she saw blood bloom across Declan's shoulder.
"No!" she shouted, running toward him. She didn't know what she could do, but she couldn't stand by and watch him fall. As she reached him, one of the wolves turned, its eyes locking onto her. It lunged, and she swung her dagger, catching it across the muzzle. The wolf snarled, retreating, and Declan finished it off with a powerful swipe of his claws.
The third wolf fled, its tail tucked between its legs, and the clearing fell silent save for the groans of the wounded and the distant howls of retreat. Declan shifted back, his chest heaving, blood dripping from a gash on his shoulder. He turned to Saoirse, his eyes blazing with a mix of relief and fury.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he demanded, grabbing her arms. "You could've been killed!"
"I couldn't just stand there," she shot back, her voice trembling with emotion. "You were in danger. I had to help."
Declan's grip tightened, his expression conflicted. "You're not a warrior, Saoirse. You're-"
"I'm not helpless," she interrupted, her eyes burning with defiance. "I'm not just an omega to be protected. I can fight for what matters to me."
For a moment, they stood there, the bond between them pulsing with a fierce intensity. Then Declan pulled her close, his forehead resting against hers. "You're going to be the death of me," he murmured, his voice rough but laced with something softer-something that made her heart ache.
Saoirse closed her eyes, breathing him in, the scent of blood and pine and him grounding her. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "But I'm not sorry I stayed."
Declan pulled back, his gaze softening as he brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Good," he said.
"Because I'm not letting you go."
The sound of approaching footsteps broke the moment, and they turned to see Aisling and Conall approaching, their faces grim but victorious. "They're retreating," Aisling said. "For now. We've lost two, and several are wounded, but we held the line."
Declan nodded, his expression hardening. "Cillian won't stop. This was just a test. He'll come back with more."
"Then we'll be ready," Conall said, his earlier skepticism replaced by a quiet resolve. He glanced at Saoirse, a flicker of respect in his eyes. "She held her own out there."
Declan's lips twitched, a ghost of a smile breaking through his stern demeanor. "She did."
Saoirse felt a swell of pride, tempered by the weight of the lives lost. The battle was won, but the war was far from over. As she stood beside Declan, the bond between them stronger than ever, she knew one thing for certain: she'd found a place worth fighting for.