"I'm counting on it."
A knock at the door interrupts us. Tessa pokes her head in, her expression strange.
"Declan. You need to see this."
We follow her to the front of Clifftop House.
I freeze.
Graeme Northshore is on our doorstep with two dozen wolves at his back. The Alpha who fought us, who challenged Declan, who threw his lot in with Connor. He should be our enemy.
But he's kneeling.
Jax snarls low in his throat. "It's a trap. Has to be."
"Maybe." Finn moves to flank Declan, his dragon close to the surface. "Or maybe he's smarter than we gave him credit for."
Graeme keeps his head bowed, his hands spread wide. His wolves mirror his position, all of them kneeling on our property, offering themselves. If Declan wanted to kill them all right now, they've given him the opportunity.
"MacRae." Graeme's voice is rough. "I was wrong. We all were. Let us help you stop this."
Declan tenses. "Why should I trust you? You stood with Connor. Your wolves attacked mine."
"Because he lied to us." Graeme raises his head, and shame is written across his youthful face. His left eye is bruised, and there's a fresh cut across his jaw. He looks like someone who's been in a fight recently—maybe with his own people. "He told us he wanted to restore the old ways, bring back traditional pack law. He never mentioned unsealing the Fomori. He never said anything about murdering innocents and sacrificing bloodline carriers. When I found out what he's really trying to do..." His jaw clenches. "That's not strength. That's madness."
A younger male with copper-red hair steps forward from Graeme's group. "We won't follow him into darkness. Whatever our differences, this island is still our home. We won't let Connor destroy it."
"Some of Connor's wolves came last night," a woman with silver-streaked dark hair adds. "Told us what the ritual really does. What he's trying to unleash. We fought our own packmates to be here."
Graeme nods. "We fought some of Connor's wolves to get here. My pack is with me, MacRae. We stand ready."
Declan studies them. His wolf rises, assessing the threat, weighing options.
Jax moves closer, his voice low. "It could still be a trap. Connor's cunning enough to plant spies among them."
"It could," Declan agrees. "But we need every fighter we can get. And look at them—that bruising on Graeme's face is fresh. They fought to get here."
He looks at me. I give a slight nod. We need every ally we can get.
"Rise." Declan steps back. "You're welcome at my back, Northshore. Don't make me regret this."
Graeme stands, and relief flashes across his face before he schools it back to neutral. "You won't. I swear on my pack, on my ancestors, on everything I hold sacred—we stand with you against Connor. Until this is finished."
As Graeme and his wolves file inside, another vehicle pulls up the drive. Elena Southcove emerges with her own contingent—sleek, professional, deadly. The female Alpha who's stayed neutral through all the pack politics now picks a side.
"Connor's gone too far." She meets Declan's eyes. "My pack is with you."
Wolves keep arriving all morning. By noon, Clifftop House can barely contain them all. Not just our allies, but former neutrals and even some of Connor's loyalists who've had enough. They come in ones and twos at first, then in groups, all with the same story—Connor lied, Connor hid his true intentions, they won't be part of releasing an ancient evil.
I watch Declan coordinate them all, organizing defenses and attack strategies. This is what an Alpha looks like. Not just dominant and powerful, but a leader who inspires loyalty through actions rather than fear.
The afternoon passes in preparation. Weapons checked, strategies refined, positions assigned. Every shifter knows their role. Every weakness in our plan gets addressed and shored up.
The sun sinks lower. Time's running out.
"For you." Moira Flynn presses a leather pouch into my hands. Inside are what look like ordinary iron nails, but theyhum with power. "Salt-forged. Blessed at the old stones. Iron and salt together—death to dark magic. You get one shot with each. Make them count."
"Thank you." I tuck the pouch into my jacket pocket carefully.
