Chapter 106

Mira’s POV

Dawn hit like a slap.

The messenger staggered in, guts practically hanging out, blood everywhere, armor reeking of smoke. Dude barely made it to one knee before blurting, “The army… It’s gone, my lady. The Crescent Moon pack... Dominic... they’ve won.”

I just stared at him for a second. Not a word.

And then.. yeah, I smiled.

“Get up,” I told him, voice quiet. He jerked like I’d slapped him. Whatever. My cloak dragged past, catching on the smashed glass I’d chucked last night, remnants of my little tantrum, I guess. Outside, the wind carried that nasty burnt-paper, scorched-metal stench. Everything out there? Toast.

Gone. Poof. That fast.

Blood Fang soldiers, every damn traitor I’d slipped into Dominic’s ranks, my father’s handpicked old men, dead or dust.

Dad, Alpha Luca, vanished during the retreat. Some muttered he’d been caught, others that he ran for the hills. Did it matter? Not to me. No tears for cowards.

Sure, we lost the war. But me? Not finished.

Despair’s for people with something to lose. Me? Lost all of it already.

Title? Gone.

Mate? Gone.

Home? You guessed it, gone.

So what’s left for me? Just the fire.

And you know what? Fire doesn’t break.

I stepped back into what was left of my war tent. The canvas flapped like busted wings. Table still upright, buried under maps and cracked quills, a graveyard for my bright ideas. Every line I drew, a road to revenge. All of them, dead ends.

The soldiers outside wouldn’t even look at me. Cowards. I grabbed a map... Crescent Moon’s territory, so carefully drawn, all sharp edges and anger. I traced the lines, finger shaking, remembering when I thought I’d win.

Then dropped the candle.

Flames tore across the parchment, greedy as hell. Everything I’d worked for, gone in seconds.

“Let them rebuild,” I muttered, voice sharp as broken glass. “Let them think they’ve won.”

The fire climbed higher, curling my plans into nothing but black ash. I couldn’t look away.

“I’ll take their hearts next time.”

One by one, I tossed every scrap of my failure into the blaze, battle plans, lists of enemies, even the treaties with the Blood Fang Alpha. Flames roared, lighting up my face in gold and blood-red.

When all that was left were glowing embers, I turned my back.

Out I went, morning cold and sharp, ruins everywhere. The survivors, what was left of my army, ducked their heads as I passed. Wouldn’t meet my gaze. Pathetic.

“You think it’s over,” I said, soft but slicing. “You think winning means peace. Nah. Peace is a lie.”

Nobody dared answer.

I could pretty much read their minds... She’s snapped. She’s done for.

Maybe I had. But madness? Hell, it’s a weapon. Clears away all the useless stuff... fear, hesitation, mercy.

I’d use it.

I slipped into Dad’s abandoned command tent. Still smelled like him, woodsmoke, iron, cedar. On the desk? A half-written letter, my name on it.

Daughter, it said. You’ve gone too far. Dominic Vale wasn’t your enemy. He was your fate.

I ripped it up before I finished reading.

“Fate,” I spat. “Fate’s for suckers waiting for a miracle.”

Dominic wasn’t my fate. He was my wreckage.

And you know what? Wreckage can become a weapon.

I sat at the desk, picking up my father’s quill, still wet with ink. Felt right in my hand. But this letter? Not for Dominic. Not for my father.

For her.

For Elora.

Dear Elora,

You’ve never had everything torn from you, have you? Never been marked, claimed, loved, then tossed aside like you’re nothing. But you will. Trust me.

Congrats, Luna. You got your win. You, your golden Alpha, your loyal knight bleeding all over your boots. Adorable.

Think love’s gonna save you? Hold your world together? Get real. It never does.

I see how Dominic watches you. How Dante hovers, like he’s about to catch fire. You’re the spark, sweetheart. You’ll burn them both.

And when you do? I’ll be right there, watching. Count on it.

Not with swords, not with armies. I’m so far past all that blood-soaked nonsense. No more stomping around in mud and guts for me. Next time, I’ll come for something you can’t hold or stab or throw in a pit.

Your peace.

Your trust.

Your heart.

So yeah, bask in your little victory while you’ve got it.

Mira Vale

I slammed the letter shut with black wax, pressed my pack’s sigil into it, the damn thing hissing and spitting like it was alive. The coiled serpent, still as death, stared up at me when it cooled.

“Get this to Crescent Moon territory. Directly to Luna Elora. If anyone else so much as sniffs it, you’re dead.” I shoved it at my runner, a kid, really, pale-eyed and barely grown.

He gulped like I’d handed him a live snake. “Y...yes, Alpha.”

Yeah, run along. I watched him disappear, then stepped out to the tent’s edge. The horizon was on fire, except not literally, just that ugly gold light slanting over the wrecked battlefield. From here, you might almost call it beautiful.

That’s a joke. Beauty’s just the surface. Underneath? Ashes. Heat. The stink of loss.

I let my eyes fall shut, pulling smoke and blood into my lungs. There it was... Dominic’s face, jaw tight, shattered when he broke our bond. That haunted look when he said goodbye. Hurts like hell, still. Not that I’d admit it.

Then Elora’s name in his mouth. My heart goes from bruised to frozen in a blink.

Let them patch up their wounds. Let them believe it’s over. I muttered it to the wind, which just shrieked in my face and ripped my burned old maps to pieces.

Not done. Not even close.

I turned my back on the flames, my cloak dragging shadows behind me, dark as my thoughts.

Everyone keeps saying the war’s over.

Mine? Just getting started.