CHAPTER 11 – The Storm Within

(Delph’s POV)

The first horn shakes the rafters.

Then another.

And another.

By the time I reach the courtyard, the air is thick with the scent of iron and rain. Wolves shift in the open space, ranks breaking apart faster than orders can travel. Some raise their heads to me. Others turn toward the elders’ banners snapping above the gate.

It’s already begun.

“Hold the south wall!” I shout. The sound rips through the confusion. “No one crosses the line without my order!”

Corin appears at my side, breathing hard. “They came through the northern arch! Council enforcers and half the guard with them.”

Half.

That’s enough to drown the rest if they get momentum.

“Signal the archers,” I bark. “Do not kill unless they attack first.”

He hesitates. “They’re attacking already.”

A clash of steel answers him.

The courtyard erupts. Wolves collide mid-shift, fur and fists and rage blurring into one sound. The elders’ guards push forward in a wedge, silver spears gleaming. My own fighters close ranks to meet them.

I move through the fray like instinct, years of command drilled into every step. Every heartbeat I check the link that ties me to the pack; the bond hums with panic, fear, loyalty. Then, beneath it, something smaller, steadier, two small heartbeats, far away, moving.

Afnan’s running.

Good.

A blade flashes at my throat. I twist, catch the attacker’s wrist, send him sprawling into the mud. “Stand down!” I shout, but no one’s listening now.

Draven surges inside me, ready to take over. End it, he growls. Show them who leads.

I forced him back. Not yet. Not if it costs them all.

Across the courtyard, the elders stand on the balcony, robes whipping in the wind, shouting commands of their own. Their enforcers press closer.

Corin appears again, blood on his sleeve. “They’re splitting us in two! Orders?”

I scan the chaos, the fighting, the confusion, the fear and know there’s only one choice left.

“Seal the gates,” I say.

His eyes widened. “That traps us inside.”

“Exactly. They can’t send for help or escape if we finish this now.”

He nods once and vanishes into the smoke.

The fighting shifts. With the gates closed, sound crashes back on itself, growls, shouts, the thud of bodies against stone. I wade through it, giving orders, pulling wounded out of reach, refusing to think of the east wing.

A flash of gold catches my eye. Serena, standing atop the stair, a silver dagger in hand. Her eyes lock on mine and she smiles.

“Step aside, Delph,” she calls. “The pack deserves a leader who isn’t blinded by an omega’s lies.”

The wolves nearest her hesitate, uncertain which Alpha to follow.

I draw in a slow breath. “This pack was built on blood, not gossip.”

She lifts the dagger higher. “Then bleed for it.”

She lunges, swift, precise.

I block the strike, twist her wrist, send the weapon spinning into the dirt. For a moment she just stares at me, shock flickering across her perfect face.

“Don’t make me hurt you, Serena,” I say quietly.

“You already did,” she spits, and shifts.

Her wolf is pale gold, quick, deadly. Draven roars to the surface before I can hold him back. The world narrows to sound and scent, claws and breath. I don’t go for the kill; I knock her aside, hard enough to send her sprawling but alive.

The pack sees.

The hesitation breaks.

“Protect the Alpha!” someone shouts.

The tide turns. My loyal wolves surge forward, driving the elders’ soldiers back toward the gates. Varr and the others vanish into the upper corridors, retreating behind their magic seals.

Minutes stretch into an hour before the courtyard falls silent except for the crackle of torches.

Corin limps back to me, armor dented, eyes wide. “It’s over. For now.”

I nod, but my gaze drifts past him to the smoke rising over the east wing.

“Find Afnan,” I say.

He hesitates. “If she made it out, she’s beyond the wall by now.”

“If she didn’t?”

He doesn’t answer.

I look at the gates shut, blood-stained, solid. The pack has chosen. Half are on their knees, heads bowed. The others watch me with fear and something close to faith.

Draven’s voice murmurs low inside me. You won. For now.

But all I can feel is the emptiness where her scent should be.