Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The attack came at dusk.

I was in the Alpha’s den when the first howl cut through the air—high, sharp, and wrong. Not a pack call. Not a warning between Blackthorn wolves. This one carried the ragged edge of aggression, and it was close.

Riven was already moving before the second howl sounded. He crossed the den in three strides, grabbed the knife belt he kept near the door, and looked at me once.

“Stay inside. Bar the door. Do not open it for anyone but me.”

“What’s happening?”

“Border breach.” His voice was flat, already shifting into the cold focus he used when something needed killing. “Rival scouts, maybe more. They’ve been testing us since the claim. Looks like they finally decided to push.”

The bond between us surged with his tension. I felt the spike of protective fury as clearly as if it were my own. Before I could say anything else, he was gone—out the door and into the gathering dark, already calling orders in a voice that carried across the grounds.

I barred the door with shaking hands.

For a long minute the only sounds were my own breathing and the distant shouts outside. Then the real noise started: snarls, the heavy impact of bodies, someone screaming in pain. I pressed my back against the wood and tried to steady myself. The claim mark on my neck throbbed. Through the bond I could feel Riven—focused, violent, alive—but every second that passed without seeing him made the connection feel thinner than it should.

A heavy thud hit the side of the den.

I froze.

Another thud, closer to the door. Then a voice, low and unfamiliar, just on the other side of the wood.

“Alpha’s little Omega… come out. We only want to talk.”

I didn’t answer. My heart was slamming so hard I could hear it in my ears.

The voice chuckled. “We know you’re alone. Your Alpha’s busy bleeding for a claim half his pack doesn’t even respect. Open the door. Make this easy.”

I backed away from the entrance, eyes scanning the den for anything I could use as a weapon. There wasn’t much. Riven kept the real blades with him. My gaze landed on a heavy wooden chair. I grabbed it, muscles protesting, and angled it between myself and the door.

Something slammed into the wood hard enough to make the bar rattle.

“Last chance,” the voice said. “We can take you out of here quietly… or we can burn the den down with you in it. Your choice.”

Outside, the sounds of fighting were getting louder. I caught a flash of Riven’s presence through the bond—pain, sharp and sudden—and my stomach dropped. The connection flared with his rage a second later, but the pain didn’t fully disappear.

They were hurting him.

The door shuddered under another impact. A crack split through the outer panel.

I made a decision.

Instead of waiting for them to break through, I moved to the narrow side window Riven used for ventilation, shoved it open as quietly as I could, and slipped out into the cooler evening air. My bare feet hit the dirt. The oversized shirt I still wore did nothing against the chill, but I didn’t care. I needed to see what was happening. I needed to know if Riven was still standing.

I kept low and circled toward the main clearing, using the dens and storage buildings as cover. What I saw made my blood run cold.

Blackthorn wolves were locked in scattered fights across the grounds. At least a dozen outsiders—lean, hard-eyed wolves I didn’t recognize—had pushed deep past the border. This wasn’t a scout party. This was a coordinated strike.

And in the center of it was Riven.

He was in partial shift, claws out, moving like something built purely for violence. Two enemy wolves were already down near his feet. A third lunged at his back. Riven turned, caught the attacker by the throat, and slammed him into the ground hard enough that I heard the impact from where I hid.

But there were more.

Too many.

One of the rival wolves broke off from the main fight and started cutting toward the dens—toward me. He had caught my scent. I saw the moment his head snapped in my direction, eyes lighting with recognition.

I turned and ran.

Branches whipped past my face as I pushed into the thinner trees at the edge of the grounds. Behind me I heard the pursuer crashing after me, faster, heavier. The bond screamed with Riven’s sudden spike of alarm—he had felt my fear—but he was still locked in the main fight. He couldn’t reach me in time.

A hand caught the back of my shirt and yanked me sideways.

I hit the ground hard, air punching out of my lungs. The rival wolf loomed over me, teeth bared in a ugly smile. He smelled of foreign earth and bloodlust.

“There you are,” he said. “The soft little thing that caused all this mess. Your Alpha’s pack is already splitting over you. Makes this almost too easy.”

I kicked out. My heel caught his knee. It wasn’t enough to drop him, but it bought me a second. I scrambled backward on my elbows, heart hammering, searching for anything—a rock, a branch, a miracle.

He stepped forward.

A dark shape slammed into him from the side.

Riven.

They hit the ground in a snarl of claws and teeth. I had never seen Riven fight this close before. There was no wasted movement, no hesitation. He was pure, focused brutality. The rival wolf got one good slash across Riven’s shoulder before Riven drove him down and ended it with a wet, final sound.

Silence fell in their small pocket of the trees.

Riven’s chest heaved. Blood ran down his arm from the shoulder wound, but he was already turning toward me, eyes still half-feral.

“I told you to stay inside.”

“They were breaking the door down,” I shot back, voice shaking. “And I felt you get hurt—”

He closed the distance in two strides, grabbed my face with his uninjured hand, and checked me roughly for injuries. His fingers were bloody. His expression was thunderous.

“Are you hurt?”

“No. You are.”

“It’s nothing.” He glanced back toward the main clearing. The sounds of fighting were already dying down. Blackthorn wolves were regrouping. The remaining outsiders were either fleeing or on the ground. “This was a test. They wanted to see how divided we were after the claim. They used the confusion to push deep.”

I swallowed. “And now?”

Riven’s eyes met mine. The feral edge hadn’t fully left them.

“Now they know the claim didn’t weaken us,” he said. “It gave me something to protect. And I will burn the next pack that tries this to the ground.”

He pulled me to my feet. His hand stayed locked around my wrist, as if he didn’t trust the night not to take me again. Blood from his shoulder dripped onto the dirt between us.

In the distance, a Blackthorn wolf howled the all-clear.

But as Riven led me back toward the dens—wounded, furious, and still radiating lethal energy—I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over.

The rival pack had tested the borders.

Someone inside Blackthorn had likely helped them choose the timing.

And I was standing in the center of all of it.