"Tell them what? Her being your mate?"
"Tell the Elders. Tell the Pack." I take a breath, the humid air filling my lungs. "Tell them she is Silver’s pup. Tell them the Enforcer didn't die for nothing. He died saving the heir."
Remy freezes. His jaw drops. "Jax...putain. Are you sure?"
"She has the eyes," I say. "She has the strength. And she’s my Mate. Tell them that if they want to honor the old ways, they stand with me. If they want to spit on Silver’s grave, they can stand aside."
Remy nods slowly. A grin splits his face, sharp and wolfish. "Silver’s blood. That changes the game. The old ones... they’ll fight God himself for Silver’s kin."
"Good. Because we might have to."
I step back, feeling the Wolf clawing at my throat. He wants to speak. He wants to claim.
I angle my head back.
The howl rips out of me. It starts low, a rumble in the chest, and climbs to a terrifying, resonant shriek that cuts through the fog and the UV glare. It is a decree.
She is Mine. She is Pack. Protect the Blood.
I hear the answer almost instantly. Howls rise from the deep swamp. Not just Remy’s squad.Allof them. It’s a chorus of acceptance and rage.
Remy looks at me, his eyes glowing. "They heard you."
"When are they coming?" I ask.
Remy’s face falls. "We intercepted a radio transmission. Gregor is moving his heavy units into position now. But they won't breach the perimeter tonight."
"Why not?"
"They’re waiting for the Longest Night," Remy says grimly. "Tomorrow. Christmas Eve. Matilde wants the darkness. She’s strongest when the sun is furthest away."
"Damn leeches," I spit. "They need the calendar to fight."
"Get back inside, Jax. Board it up. Make it a fortress. We’ll hold the line as long as we can, but those lights... they’re gonna push us back."
I nod. I turn toward the cabin.
I spend the next three hours working. I find the stack of plywood I keep under the shed. I drag it up the stairs.
I work silently, using a hand drill instead of a hammer to minimize the noise. I cover every window. I reinforce the door frame. I turn the cabin into a wooden box.
When the sun rises, it doesn't penetrate. The cabin stays dark, lit only by the flickering gas lamp I ignite on the table.
Miranda stirs.
She sits up, gasping, her hand diving under the pillow for the knife.
"Easy," I say from the table.
She blinks, looking around the dark room. "Jax? Why is it dark? Is it night again?"
"No. It’s morning. I boarded the windows."
She swings her legs off the bed. She looks at the plywood covering the glass. She understands immediately.
"The siege," she whispers.
"The breach," I correct.
