Chapter 7: Ashes before Dawn

(ELARA’S POV)

Smoke.

Blood.

The peaceful village I had stumbled into only yesterday had dissolved into chaos.

Warriors rushed through the narrow streets with their weapons drawn, boots pounding against the earth as voices echoed from every direction.

The scent of scorched wood clung to the air, and somewhere behind the cabins a few horses screamed.

"To the eastern wall!"

"Secure the children!"

"The rogues have breached the forest line!"

Somewhere to my left, a cabin roof caved in, sending a column of sparks into the dark sky.

Shadows moved through the haze — some ran towards the fighting, while others dragged the wounded away from it — and I couldn't tell anymore which shapes belonged to Trueblood and which belonged to the rogues.

The warning horn wailed again, sending a chill racing down my spine.

I couldn't breathe.

For one terrifying moment, I wasn't in the Trueblood pack anymore.

I was back in Ironridge — where my life had fallen apart.

No. Not again.

I forced myself to breathe, to plant my feet, to remember that this was the Trueblood territory, not Ironridge.

Across the courtyard, I watched Ronan emerge. As he strode quickly towards the gathering warriors, and the crowd seemed to part for him without needing to be told.

There was no hesitation in him now.

"Hold the eastern barricade," he ordered, his voice easily carrying across the village. "Move every child and omega into the shelter and have two alphas stand guard!”

Men and women who had been running mere seconds ago fell into motion around his words, as if his voice alone had given them direction through the chaos.

For the first time since I'd met him… I saw the Alpha hidden beneath the quiet man.

Gone was the careful, measured way he usually spoke to me, weighing every word as though afraid of frightening me off.

In its place was something harder — something forged for exactly this kind of night.

A woman hurried past me with two frightened children clinging to her dress. She slowed down just enough to meet my eyes.

"You shouldn't have come."

I lowered my eyes as she hurried past.

There hadn't been hatred in her voice — only fear.

And I knew better than anyone, that fear always searched for someone to blame.

Maybe I would've done the same, if some stranger with a past like mine had wandered into my pack the day before disaster struck.

Without another word, I slipped away from the crowd.

No one stopped me. In fact, no one even noticed. That, more than anything, told me exactly where I stood here.

The narrow path leading to the back gate was almost empty, littered with an overturned basket and a child's dropped shoe.

The smoke curling low along the ground stung my eyes painfully.

I stopped in my tracks.

If I left now… Ronan wouldn't have to defend me anymore. His people were already questioning his judgment and I couldn't become another reason they doubted him.

Not when he'd already given me more than I had any right to ask for.

My hand drifted to my stomach, resting there.

"I'm sorry," I whispered again.

Whether I was speaking to the tiny life growing inside me or to the man who had saved mine… I wasn't sure.

Maybe I owed them both an apology.

I drew a slow breath and forced myself to continue moving towards the gates once again.

Each step felt heavier than the last, like my body already knew what my mind hadn't admitted:

Leaving wouldn't feel like freedom. It would only feel like Ironridge all over again.

One step, then another, and another.

"Mama!"

The cry stopped me in my tracks.

I turned to see a little boy, near the center of the courtyard, standing beside an overturned cart, his little face covered with tears.

He couldn't have been older than five.

Wolves rushed past him in every direction, too consumed by the chaos to realize he'd been left behind. His small hands gripped the splintered wood of the cart as though it could shield him from what was coming.

He spun helplessly, calling again.

"Mama!"

Then I saw it.

A rogue slipped between two cabins— large, and silent as a mouse.

His crimson eyes settled on the child, and everything else in the courtyard seemed to fall away — the shouting, the horn, the smoke — until there was only that boy and the thing stalking toward him.

Every instinct screamed at me to keep walking.

To save myself first, to protect my baby.

Instead…

"Run!" I screamed.

But little boy stood frozen, too terrified to move as the rogue stalked toward him, and I understood in that instant that he wasn't going to run.

He was too small, too afraid, and there was no one close enough to reach him in time.

No one but me.

"No!"

I threw myself forward, wrapping my arms around the child as we crashed to the ground.

We rolled across the dirt just as claws slashed through the air where he'd been standing, close enough that I felt the wind of it against my back.

The boy clung to me, shaking, his small fingers digging into my sleeve.

"M-Mama…"

"I've got you," I whispered, shielding him with my body, curling myself around him the way I imagined I would one day curl around my own child.

The rogue advanced, slower now. Blood matted the fur along its shoulder— whether it was an old wound or one earned tonight, I couldn't tell — and its breath came in ragged, deliberate pulls, like it wanted us to hear it coming.

There was nowhere left to run.

The fence at my back had no gap wide enough to push a child through, and behind me I could hear the fighting drawing no closer, too far to reach us in time.

I held the child tighter and braced myself, pressing his face against my shoulder so he wouldn't have to see what came next.

A savage snarl split the air.

Instead of claws, another body slammed into the rogue, sending both wolves crashing into the fence, which splintered on impact.

"Get them out of here!" Ronan barked.

I looked up to see him standing between us and the rogue, his sword already drawn. His shoulders were bravely squared, and his stance utterly unshaken as the Trueblood warriors rushed into the fight around him.

The rogue snarled once before vanishing back into the smoke, driven off by numbers, though not before its crimson eyes found mine one last time.

It was not a retreat, but a promise.

"Move!" a warrior yelled.

I scooped the boy into my arms and ran, my legs burning, his weight small but urgent against me, and for once I didn't think about Ironridge at all.

There wasn't room for anything but the next step and the next.

The shelter came into view just as a woman burst through its entrance.

"Henry!"

The little boy lifted his head at the sound of his name. “Mama!"

He cried, reaching for his mother.

She rushed toward us and pulled him into a fierce embrace, tears streaming down her face as she checked him over — his arms, his face, his small trembling hands — as though she couldn't quite believe he was whole.

She looked at me, recognition flickering across her face, the same face that had told me only minutes ago that I shouldn't have come.

"…Thank you," she whispered.

I opened my mouth, not even sure what I meant to say— probably some quiet assurance that anyone would have done the same. But we both knew that wasn't true.

Most people hadn't stopped.

Before I could answer, another cry tore through the village.

"Alpha!"

I turned just in time to see Ronan staggering backward as three rogues closed in around him, their movements coordinated in a way that made my blood run cold — this wasn't a scattered attack anymore.

This was deliberate; the kind of hunt that had a target.

And I understood, with total certainty, that the target was Ronan.

My heart stopped.

"RONAN!"