The mindlink detonates.
Not one voice but hundreds.
Fear. Panic. Rage. Pain.
And then—
Her.
Samantha's presence slams through the chaos like a blade of moonlight cutting clean through smoke.
All non-combatants to the bunkers. Now!
Her voice is calm. Cold. Absolute.
If you cannot fight, you run. You do not hesitate. You do not wait for permission. Go.
The pack reacts instantly.
Not confusion. Not debate.
Obedience.
My chest tightens as I feel it ripple outward—wolves moving, packs splitting, mothers grabbing children, elders ushered underground. The shelters flare alive through the bond, their doors sealing as fast as they fill.
She doesn't pause.
Warriors—Section A to the north gate. Section B to the south. Archers to the walls. Healers to triage points. Do not break formation. Hold the line.
The precision of it steals my breath.
She has never done this before.
No formal training. No rehearsed drills.
And yet she moves like she was born with war written into her bones.
Like the land itself is answering her.
I find her across the training grounds, already moving, already leading. Her face is hard, eyes bright with that terrible silver fire. Emma coils tightly inside her, focused and lethal. I can feel it, feel her wolf.
She turns toward the school.
Toward the north gate.
Toward danger.
"No!" The word rips out of me as I grab her arm. "Absolutely not."
She stops, slow and deliberate, and looks at me.
"What?" she asks flatly.
"You are not going out there," I snap. "You go to the bunker. Now. I'll evacuate the pups—"
Her aura flares.
Not wild.
Not emotional.
Controlled. Furious.
"How," she demands, voice cutting like glass, "do you expect me to abandon my people?"
"This isn't about pride—"
"This is about leadership." Her eyes blaze. "How do I call myself Queen Alpha if I hide while children are in danger?" She stares at me as if I just slapped her, "How could you ask me such a thing?"
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
Because she's right.
Because every instinct in me wants to cage her, shield her, bury her underground and fight the world alone—
And that instinct is wrong.
"You protect the gates," she continues, stepping closer. "You keep them from reaching the town. If they break through, civilians die. That's your position."
She's not asking.
She's commanding.
My Queen.
My Alpha.
My mate.
My jaw clenches until it aches.
Fuck!
"I don't like this."
"I know," she says softly. Then harder: "Do it anyways."
I nod once begrudgingly. Cade is scratching at our walls, wanting to wrap her in safety.
Enoch strides up, already shifting into battle mode. "I'm staying with her."
Samantha turns sharply. "Enoch—"
"I'm Gamma," he says simply. "Gamma protects the heart of the pack. In this case—" He grins, feral and deadly. "That's you."
She hesitates only a second, knowing gammas protect their Luna's. She is Alpha, we both are, but it does not negate his duties. She nods. "Stay close."
The pack splits.
I don't look back.
If I do, I won't leave.
The north gate is hell.
Blood slicks the ground, dark and fresh, the air thick with iron and smoke. Bodies litter the earth, some twisted in death, others groaning in pain. Friend and foe are indistinguishable at a glance.
The line is barely holding.
Warriors fight in mixed forms—wolves snapping and tearing, some in human form wielding blades slick with crimson. The gates are scarred, claw marks gouged deep into reinforced steel.
They got too close.
Too fast.
I shift mid-run, Cade surging forward with a roar that shakes the ground. Bone snaps, muscle stretches, fur erupts as we slam into the fray.
'Tear out their windpipes and let them die knowing exactly why.' Cade spits out in my mind.
The first enemy wolf lunges.
Too slow.
I clamp my jaws around his throat and hurl him aside, feeling the sickening give as he crashes into another attacker. Cade doesn't pause—we pivot, slash, strike again.
The second comes from the left, massive, scarred, eyes wild with hate. He recognizes me, mindlinking.
"Traitor King—"
My claws rake across his chest, shredding flesh. He screams, shifts partially, loses control. I barrel into him, driving him into the dirt as another wolf charges.
Three of them now.
Coordinated.
Trained.
I realize with a jolt…they're not rogues.
They're pack.
The third wolf feints, drawing my attention while the second recovers. The first regains his feet, blood matting his fur.
They're trying to overwhelm me.
'Let me loose…I'll leave nothing breathing where they stand.'
Bad choice.
Cade takes over.
We leap, spin, tear, one wolf goes down under my weight, ribs collapsing beneath my jaws. Another lunges and catches my flank, teeth scraping bone.
Pain flares.
I welcome it.
I twist, snapping my head back, jaws closing around his leg. He howls as I yank, sending him crashing into the gate wall.
The last wolf hesitates.
Fear flickers in his eyes.
I recognize him.
From the Hollow Ridge Pack.
A pack known for abuse. For starvation. For killing omegas who couldn't fight.
The rebellion.
It clicks.
This isn't random.
This is organized.
This is the uprising against my reforms.
Against mercy.
Against change.
Against her.
"How many?" I snarl, voice warped in my mind.
He spits blood. "Enough."
I end it.
As his body hits the ground, dread curls in my gut.
Enough.
How many packs defected?
How long has this been building beneath my rule?
How did I not see it?
'Kill them all all,' Cade growls in my head. 'I will peel their throats open and drink the silence that follows.'
A scream cuts through the din.
I whip around just in time to see warriors falling back, the line buckling under renewed pressure.
And somewhere beyond the gate—
The school.
The pups.
Samantha.
Fear unlike anything I've ever known tears through me.
Hold the line, I tell myself viciously.
Hold it—or everything falls.
And as Cade and I surge forward again, tearing into the enemy with everything we have, one thought burns brighter than blood and fire and bone—
They came for my throne.
But they will die for hers.