Chapter Six

Lila's pov

The morning of the seventh day feels heavier than the rest.

I wake up before the sun, ankle still tender but no longer screaming every time I put weight on it. The wrap Sarah put on yesterday is snug, the salve doing its job. I sit on the edge of the bed for a long minute, staring at the faint light creeping under the door, and let the truth settle in my chest: today decides everything.

One week. One chance to prove I belong.

If they say no, I walk out of here with nothing but the clothes on my back and whatever scraps of pride I can carry. If they say yes… I don’t even know what comes next. I just know I want it. Badly.

Breakfast is quiet. Maya slides a plate of eggs and thick-cut bacon in front of me without a word, but her eyes linger. Jace and Cole sit across from me, unusually subdued. Even the usual chatter in the mess hall feels muted, like everyone knows what’s coming.

Sarah finds me after I finish eating.

“Alphas want you in the war room,” she says. “Now.”

My stomach flips, but I nod and follow her.

The war room is at the back of the lodge, a long table covered in maps, a few chairs, and walls lined with shelves of old books and rolled parchments. Kade, Darius, and Ronan are already there. Kade stands at the head of the table, arms folded, expression unreadable. Darius leans against the wall, arms crossed like always. Ronan sits in shadow near the window, silver eyes tracking me the second I step inside.

Sarah closes the door behind us.

Kade doesn’t waste time.

“Your week is up,” he says. “We’ve seen you train. We’ve seen you think. But we need to know if you can hold your own when it matters. No half-measures. No excuses.”

I lift my chin. “I’m ready.”

He studies me for a long beat. “Good. Then you get to choose your proving ground: combat or strategy.”

My pulse kicks up. Combat would be suicide right now, I’m stronger than I was, but I’m nowhere near their level. One solid hit from Darius or Ronan and I’d be on the ground again. Strategy, though… that’s where I’ve always been dangerous.

“Strategy,” I say without hesitation.

Kade’s mouth curves, just a flicker. “Smart.”

He spreads a large map across the table. It’s the compound and surrounding territory, hand-drawn in faded ink, with red and blue markers already placed for defensive positions and potential attack routes.

“Scenario,” Kade says. “A rival pack, let’s call them Ironfang—launches a dawn raid. Fifty fighters, coordinated, coming from three directions: east ridge, south trail, and the river cut. They want the lodge. They want captives. They want to burn what they can’t take. You have thirty wolves, half of them green, and limited supplies. Defend the compound. Show us how.”

He steps back.

Everyone watches me.

I take a breath, force my mind to slow, and lean over the map.

The east ridge is high ground, perfect for archers or spotters, but exposed if they push hard. The south trail is narrow, easy to bottleneck. The river cut is the wildcard: shallow enough to cross in summer, fast-moving, but it loops close to the back of the lodge. If they get there, they’re inside the perimeter before anyone can react.

I trace lines with my finger.

“First,” I say, “we don’t defend every front equally. That’s how you lose. We make them commit to the south trail, let them think it’s the weak point. We stage a visible retreat there. Pull back two squads, make noise, draw them in. They’ll bunch up in the choke point. We hit them with fire traps, oil-soaked brush piles we’ve prepped along the trail. Burn the front line, scatter the rest.”

Kade’s eyes narrow. “And the ridge?”

“High ground is theirs if they take it fast. So we don’t let them. We send a small strike team, six wolves, fast and quiet, up the back face before dawn. They flank the ridge position, take out the spotters, then rain arrows and rocks down on the main force once the south trap springs. Confusion buys time.”

Ronan speaks for the first time, voice low. “River cut?”

I meet his gaze. “That’s the real threat. We can’t block the water, but we can slow them. Rig the shallows with trip lines and weighted nets—nothing fancy, just enough to tangle legs and slow momentum. Then we station the strongest fighters at the back gate. Close-quarters, no room to maneuver. They’ll have to come single-file. We bleed them there.”

Darius shifts against the wall. “You’re betting everything on them taking the bait at the south.”

“I’m betting they’re arrogant,” I say. “Ironfang’s known for frontal assaults. They’ll see the retreat and charge. Pride makes people stupid.”

Silence.

Kade stares at the map, then at me. “You’ve thought this through.”

“I’ve had a week to watch how you move. How you think. I paid attention.”

He straightens. “Questions.”

He fires them fast.

“What if they split their force and hit the ridge first?”

“Then we adjust, pull the strike team back early, use them to reinforce the river. The south trap still slows the main group.”

“What if the river team gets pinned?”

“We have a fallback, smoke pots at the back gate. Blind them, force retreat. Worst case, we hold the lodge itself. Stone walls, narrow doors. They can’t burn it fast, and we pick them off from the windows.”

“What if they bring fire arrows?”

I hesitate for half a second. “Then we prioritize the river. Wet the roof, keep buckets ready. Lose the outer cabins if we have to. The lodge is defensible.”

Kade keeps going. Supply lines. Morale. Escape routes if it all goes to hell. I answer every one, not perfectly, but steadily. My voice doesn’t shake. My hands don’t tremble on the map.

When he finally stops, the room is quiet.

He looks at Darius. Then Ronan.

Darius pushes off the wall. “She’s not wrong.”

Ronan nods once.

Kade turns back to me. His gaze is intense, almost too intense. Like he’s trying to see straight through my skull. It’s not cold anymore. It’s… searching. Hungry, almost. The kind of focus that makes my skin prickle and my breath catch.

“You’ve earned your place,” he says finally. “But this pack doesn’t run on words. We vote.”

He steps to the door, opens it.

The clearing is full.

Every wolf in Bloodmoon is there, Sarah, Maya, Jace, Cole, the pups, the elders, even the ones who’ve barely spoken to me. They stand in loose groups, watching.

Kade raises his voice. “Lila Thorne has completed her trial. She chose strategy. She presented a plan. We’ve questioned her. Now we vote. Those in favor of accepting her as full member of the Bloodmoon Collective, step forward.”

For a heartbeat, nothing happens.

Then Maya steps up. Grinning.

Sarah follows.

Jace and Cole move together, Jace winking at me.

One by one, the others come. Some hesitant. Some eager. But they come.

Darius is last. He walks forward slowly, eyes never leaving mine. When he stops beside Kade, he gives a single nod.

Kade looks around the circle. “Unanimous.”

He turns to me.

“Welcome to Bloodmoon, Lila.”

The words hit harder than any punch I’ve taken this week.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Thank you.”

Someone—Jace, probably....lets out a whoop. Laughter ripples through the pack. Maya pulls me into a quick, fierce hug. Sarah claps me on the shoulder hard enough to make me wince.

Kade steps closer.

His voice drops so only I can hear.

“You’re one of us now,” he says. “That means you’re ours to protect. And we expect the same from you.”

His eyes hold mine a second too long. The air between us feels charged, like the moment before a storm breaks.

Then he steps back.

“Tonight,” he says louder, “we feast. Tomorrow, you train with the full warriors. No more kid gloves.”

The pack erupts....cheers, backslaps, someone already calling for ale.

I stand there, ankle throbbing, heart pounding, feeling something I haven’t felt in years.

Belonging.

It’s fragile. It’s new. But it’s real.

And for the first time since I ran from Silver Moon, I don’t feel like I’m running anymore.

I feel like I’m home.