Throne Of Wolves. Novels & Stories

The one lady that said she recognised me says you will be okay to show your wolf now that you are older. But what she says next puzzles me she says Nora has always known how to handle herself and titan will always protect the one he loves. They then all stand up and say the wagners will be coming with us before the run. We say thank you and all head to the pack house. The women who says she knows me comes up to us and says justice will be served but you have to make the decision if you want the red river pack.

I looked out over the tens of thousands of wolves the warriors, the omegas, the broken southern Alphas and I let my inner White Wolf completely off her leash. I threw my head back and released a deafening, dual-frequency howl that pierced the morning sky, shattering the remaining clouds and letting the bright, golden sunlight flood the Northern Shadows. Below us, Beta Torin threw his head back and answered the howl. Kael joined him. Then the Vanguard. Then the omegas. Ten thousand wolves howling in perfect, unbroken unison. The floor scrubber was dead. The Queen of Winter had claimed her throne.

“It is not going quiet! I am right here! The pack is right here! Thorne, tell her! Tell her we are here!” ​Thorne knelt, his massive hand resting on the earth near Winnie’s head. “We are here, Queen of the North. The Iron Claw acknowledges the debt. We are the stone beneath you. We are the wind that carries your name.” ​One by one, the wolves began to howl. It was not a hunt-cry or a song of war. It was a low, steady thrum, a communal vibration that began to resonate with the white light of the lilies.

“I have to be. For all of us.” As they ventured deeper into the forest, the air grew colder, the trees denser. The path was almost invisible, overgrown with vines and underbrush. Thorne moved with purpose, his keen eyes scanning for threats. Suddenly, a chilling howl echoed through the trees. Thorne’s hand shot up, signaling a halt. “Wolves,” he murmured. “The Alpha King’s scouts. They’ve found us.” The warriors formed a defensive circle, their weapons drawn. Isabella clutched the relic tightly, its pulsating energy a reminder of their mission. The growls grew louder, and then, without warning, the wolves attacked.

I wouldn’t give up. Then a howl split the air. Deep and commanding. Unlike anything I’d heard. It stopped us all cold. The two rogue wolves froze, then turned and vanished into the woods. I stood shaking, my ears twitching toward the sound. A strange current ran through me. Two massive wolves appeared. One was black and silver, shimmering under the moonlight, bigger than any wolf I’d ever seen. His golden eyes met mine. The second was deep brown. Alpha Thorne.

The forest seemed to hold its breath, the fog swirling around his feet like it respected him. 'I... yeah,' I lied, voice trembling. 'What was that? Who are you people?' The words tumbled out, my mind reeling. Wolves that talked? Packs? This couldn't be real. 'Name's Thorne. Alpha of my pack.' He glanced around, tense, ears twitching as if listening. 'Those were scouts from the rivals. Jax's lot—they use humans like you to lure us out.' His eyes scanned me, not leering, but assessing, and that heat flared again, making me shift uncomfortably. The trees whispered in the wind, the ground still warm from the fight, blood soaking into the soil like an offering.

Maybe he is. "What do you want her for?" I ask, forcing the hatred in my voice as far back as possible, but the words still struggle to come out. "I'm glad you asked! Did you know, nothing brings wolves closer than the common hate and torture of someone?" He says, and with a wave of his hand, the previously hidden wolves are met with others. As they inch out of the shadows, I can see their size, their color. These are alpha's and beta's of other packs.

Having sensed the awakening of raw power that I knew something was up. The power radiating from here was enormous. Thrain and I both biting at the bit to be present but knew our Rogues were more than capable of winning against mere wolves. A true testament when one of my wolves ripped out the heart of Tori’s mother. A show I watched from the safety of shadow. Tori’s pain a delicious scent even when my wolves began to leave. The one’s who were weaker now dead. But those who held their own against the fight were about to be rewarded for a job well done.

The reconstruction of the Blackwood Pack was a labor of stone and spirit. Lyra Thorne stood on the balcony of the South Wing, her sapphire eyes scanning the valley below. Thousands of wolves were working together—Shadow Claws and regular pack warriors—hauling timber and stone to repair the breached walls. The division that had once defined her life was blurring, replaced by a singular, desperate need for stability.

As the fight got more intense, the two werewolves shifted, so that where two men were fighting before, there was a very large grey wolf, Thomas, and a slightly smaller black wolf, Jonas. The wolves circled each other, the grey one’s eyes full of wisdom, experience, and anger. In the black wolf’s eyes were a knowing look … and triumph, which was weird because it was being beaten hands down. Several bones in its body had been broken and it was favoring its right front leg, whereas the other wolf was very much unhurt. The fact that the black wolf was being beaten did not seem to faze it, though. Its eyes kept darting around, as though searching for something, so the pack members thought that it