Zayn and Ezra raced toward the northern border beneath the pale moonlight, the biting wind slicing through the trees. The scent of blood hit them long before they reached the ridge, carrying the unmistakable chaos of battle.
Wolves were already fighting fiercely, growls and cries cutting through the darkness. Ezra's voice, tense and low, broke the silence between them. “Supporters of Xavier Brightpaw. Looks like his influence went deeper than we realized.”
Zayn didn't answer, his jaw set firmly, fury already searing through his veins. He could feel his wolf pushing to break free, ready to spill blood.
They burst onto the scene, immediately shifting into their wolf forms. Zayn’s massive black wolf lunged forward, powerful and deadly, with Ezra’s silver wolf right behind him. Their arrival strengthened their packmates’ resolve, rallying them to fight even harder.
Bodies collided. Teeth tore into flesh. The battle quickly turned brutal, merciless, and personal.
Zayn cut through the enemy wolves without hesitation, swift, and unstoppable. These wolves had come to destroy the fragile peace he had struggled to build. He would show them no mercy.
Ezra fought by his side, equally ruthless, his jaws snapping at every wolf who challenged them. Together they carved through enemy lines like a violent storm, leaving destruction and death behind them.
Suddenly, a pale-furred rogue wolf lunged forward, teeth bared in a mocking grin as he dodged Zayn’s snapping jaws.
“Alpha Zayn!” the wolf shouted, circling around him. “Still playing at being a hero? Still lying to yourself?”
Zayn’s wolf turned sharply, eyes blazing with fury.
The rogue laughed cruelly, eyes filled with hatred. “You’re just like Alpha Grayson. A monster hiding behind revenge. Tell me, Alpha, how does it feel to become exactly what you despise?”
The words hit Zayn hard, tearing open deep, hidden wounds. He lunged blindly, slamming the rogue to the ground. His anger consumed him completely.
“You dare compare me to him?” Zayn snarled, his voice shaking with raw fury.
The rogue beneath him laughed fearlessly. “You think killing me changes the truth? Face it, Alpha. You’re no better than he was.”
Rage overwhelmed Zayn, a burning wave of fury overthrew reason. He tore into the rogue wolf, teeth ripping through flesh, claws tearing mercilessly. Blood spilled over his paws and soaked into his fur, but still he didn’t stop. The rogue’s laughter turned into gasping, choking sounds, and finally silence, yet Zayn kept slashing blindly, unable to stop himself.
“Alpha! Enough!” Ezra’s urgent voice echoed clearly through their pack bond. A moment later, Ezra slammed into him, knocking him off the broken body.
Zayn staggered to his feet, panting hard, his eyes wild with adrenaline. Blood dripped from his muzzle, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Slowly, clarity returned, and he saw the carnage around him.
The battlefield was silent now. His warriors watched warily, eyes wide with concern. Ezra shifted back into human form, stepping closer, his expression guarded.
“Zayn,” Ezra said quietly but firmly, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. “It’s over.”
Zayn shifted back to his human form slowly, forcing himself to stand tall, chest still heaving from lingering rage. Blood stained his skin, his hands trembling slightly.
“Gather all the survivors,” Zayn ordered in a cold voice. “Chain them in the dungeons. No food. They’ll talk, or they'll suffer until they do.”
“Yes, Alpha,” Ezra said swiftly, then hesitated, lowering his voice. “One rogue escaped during the fighting.”
Zayn’s expression darkened. “Find him. I don’t care how long it takes or how far you have to go. No one escapes.”
Ezra nodded quickly, signaling their warriors to carry out the orders. Zayn stood in the bloody aftermath, the rogue’s words haunting him, echoing inside his head.
You’re no better than he was.
It was exactly what he feared becoming. The very thing he’d sworn never to become.
Ezra stepped closer again, cautiously. His voice concerned. “Alpha, we should head back.”
Zayn didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took one final look at the broken bodies scattered around him, bitterness heavy in his chest. Then he turned and motioned to Ezra for them to depart.
The ride back to the packhouse was silent.
Zayn sat tall in his saddle, covered in dirt and blood, the weight of battle pressing down harder than the wounds on his skin. His warriors howled behind him, voices filled with pride and relief. They had won. The rogues were scattered. The border was secured.
But Zayn didn’t feel it. Not the victory. Not the pride. Only the heavy silence inside his chest.
He clenched his fists as they passed through the gates, his eyes drifting toward the windows of the packhouse, but there was no light from his chambers. He hadn't seen her since before the mission. Since he’d ordered her to wait in his chambers. Was she still there? In the dark?
Lily. His jaw tightened. When he stepped inside, the halls were quiet. His boots echoed down the stone corridor, and though the guards bowed as he passed, he barely noticed them.
He walked straight to his room, not entirely sure what he would find or how he’d feel when he did.
As he reached the door, her scent enveloped him. Soft. Warm. Wildflowers.
Zayn slowed in front of the door, breathing in without meaning to. The scent was gentle at first, then curled around him like smoke. He lifted his head slightly, instinctively.
Strange enough, it gave him a sense of comfort he didn’t expect. It wrapped around the tension in his chest and loosened it, just a little. It was intoxicating, and before he realized it, he was breathing deeper, wanting more.
He exhaled slowly. Then, without thinking further, he opened the door.
The room was dim, lit only by the soft light of the moon stretching across the floor. His eyes went straight to her.
She was asleep on the ground, curled tightly into herself near the far corner of the room. Arms wrapped around her knees. She was wearing a thin red dress that barely covered anything. Her face was pale, her lips parted slightly. Even in sleep, she looked exhausted.
Small. Still. Quiet. Zayn stood in the doorway, frozen.
He had gone to war. Spilled blood. Heard terrified screams. He had returned victorious.
And this… this was what he came back to. His rejected mate. Sleeping alone on the floor of his room.
His chest tightened. She didn’t stir. Didn’t even seem aware of his presence.
He stepped forward slowly. Every part of him wanted to stay angry. To keep reminding himself who she was. Who her family had been. What they had done to him and his people.
But she wasn’t her father. She wasn’t her brother. She didn’t even have the strength to lift her head.
Martha’s voice echoed faintly in his memory. She’s not evil. She’s just broken.