Chapter 98

Dante's pov.

She squeezed her eyes shut... just a blink, but it felt like falling off a cliff and hoping you’d land somewhere soft, then she snapped them open. “If we don’t,” she said, “she’ll take out two packs. Waiting’s the real gamble.”

I shook my head, voice barely above a whisper. “But if we do? We become her.”

She gripped her spear so tight the damn wood almost screamed. You could see the war in her, duty or mercy, brave or just plain foolish. She was mapping out futures in her head, every path littered with bodies or hope or both. Her face looked so tired that it hurt to look at it. I knew that kind of tired. I squeezed my knife until it hurt.

“Let’s go,” I said, too soft, almost pleading. “We can’t sit on this ridge and plan the apocalypse.” My voice tried to sound bossy, but honestly? I just needed someone to choose life over revenge.

She stood, slow and deliberate, and just before we moved, she looked at me like she was remembering every invisible debt a Luna carries. She could wield kindness like a weapon, deadlier than steel if she wanted.

She said my name... Dante and it came out like a prayer. “If we do this… if we kill her, maybe we win the valley. But we could lose ourselves. I can’t. Not even for what she’s done.”

Her voice cracked at the end, all sharp and raw. I reached for her as we ducked down the ridge, sliding into shadow, joining the scouts, just more ghosts in the cold, clutching knives and bad news.

We didn’t decide. The choice just hung there, heavy and alive. Two wolves, both limping, stared at a horizon that only wanted blood. I wanted to do the “right thing,” whatever the hell that was, but the right thing looked like a pitch-black drop.

We moved out, no heroics, just muscle memory and nerves. We watched the campfire lights below, but neither of us said a word about killing the woman who’d started all this.

The night swallowed what was left of us. The ravine yawned. War held its breath. Somewhere, Mira laughed, high, sharp, like a spark landing in gasoline.

Dominic’s POV

The room was silent as I sat hunched on the edge of the bed, hands clenched so hard my knuckles hurt, replaying the messenger’s words. Dante and Elora at the border… Mira’s army is on the move. My gut told me this wasn’t some border spat. This was the big one.

I should’ve been out there. Leading, bleeding, the whole Alpha gig.

Instead, I was stuck in this box that stank of herbs and old sweat, limbs heavy as wet sandbags from the damn poison. My strength was only halfway back, but the fire in my chest? Oh, it was awake. The instant I heard Elora’s name tangled up with danger, something in me snapped to life.

Didn’t even realize I’d moved until I heard the council chamber door bang open. “Get the pack ready,” I barked. “Every fighter, every scout. We’re at the border before the sun’s up.”

Old Marrek nearly jumped out of his skin. “Alpha, you’re not fit for this. You’re still...”

I cut him off with a sound that was maybe a growl, just pure Alpha rage. “I said do it.”

He backed off fast. Alpha’s voice, there’s no arguing with it. Blood and instinct do the talking.

Once the room was cleared, I caught myself in the old iron mirror. Eyes sunken, skin pale as moonlight, but there was something wild in my face I hadn’t seen in a long damn time. Looked like a guy who remembered what he was.

I pressed my palm to my chest, feeling the jittery spark of my wolf, finally stirring after weeks buried under poison. It howled inside me, low, rough, hungry. And all it said was one name.

Elora.

What I had with Mira was just... fake, and remembering it left a bad taste in my mouth. Whatever this thing was with Elora, though? Wild. Real. Old as bones, something that didn’t bother with words, just hit you straight in the gut.

It was like this magnetic ache in my chest, fire crawling under my skin. I just knew. She was in trouble. My wolf felt it before my brain even caught up.

I walked out to the balcony. The forest below reeked of smoke and panic. It got in my mouth somehow, blood, fear, betrayal, all mixed together. Disgusting. Electric.

Suddenly, my head spun. I saw these flashes, like someone else’s memories, Elora, dirt-smeared. Dante was yelling something I couldn’t make out, iron everywhere. I choked, my hand pressed to my chest.

What was happening?

I pounded my fist so hard on the railing. “Damn it.” My breath was all sharp edges, but the weakness that’d been dragging me down snapped, replaced by something hot and furious.

She’d done everything for me... stood up against the council, kept the pack from tearing itself apart, sat by my freaking bed even when most people assumed I was already gone. And now she was out there, facing Mira’s army, all because I was too weak to stop any of this before it got ugly.

My wolf let out another howl inside me... louder. The sound ripped through my ribs and dropped me to my knees, nails digging into the stone. It hurt but underneath was rage.

“She saved me,” I snarled, words barely human. “My turn now.”

I forced myself up. Everything in me screamed, but screw it, I wasn’t stopping. I limped across the room, yanked open the trunk, and there it was... the sword, silver-edged.

Strapped the blade on, and something in me finally went quiet. Focused.

The guards tried to block me at the door. “Alpha, the healers...”

“Let the healers pray,” I shot back, barreling past. “War’s already here.”

The courtyard was straight-up madness, soldiers everywhere, armor clanking, wolves howling their heads off.

I hauled myself onto my horse, ignored the way the world tilted. Another flash—Elora’s fear, her voice barking orders in the dark. She was still fighting. For me.

That lit something up inside, something ugly and unstoppable.

Didn’t matter if I collapsed before dawn. Didn’t matter if every part of me broke.

I was going after her.

The pack fell in behind me... steel, fur, teeth, loyalty. I raised my sword. “Tonight,” I shouted, “we fight for what’s ours. Our land. Our people. For Elora.”

The answer was a roar, wolves howling, noise tumbling into the clouds.

And underneath it all, my wolf was alive, hungry, ready.

We were going to war. And nothing, not poison, not the ghost of some broken promise, was gonna keep me from finding her.