Rowen leaned forward, elbows on her knees, fingers pressing into her temples. “Why did none of us see this?” she asked, her voice small and furious at once. A question for all of us, for the ancestors, for the Goddess herself.
Tariq exhaled hard. “Because we weren’t meant to.”
Diesel scoffed. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means,” Tariq said, looking between us, “they wanted everyone blind. Distracted. Worried about rogue attacks, or territory boundaries, or political nonsense. Everyone looking the wrong way instead of at anything that would keep us from noticing the real pattern.”
Killian’s jaw clenched. “A pattern only visible from above.” He pointed to the map pinned on the far wall. “From territory lines. Attack locations. Evacuations. It’s not random…it’s a funnel.”
“A funnel toward the Hollow,” Rowen whispered.
Jaxson nodded. “We believe so.”
My wolf seemed to settle. Listening to them, I felt not fear but recognition. They were telling the truth. “They’re trying to herd the chaos,” I said slowly. “Pushing everything into a single point.”
“Into you,” Jaxson corrected. “Into Blueridge Hollow. Into whatever it is they think you have here or are guarding.”
Rowen’s head snapped up. “There isn’t anything to hide.”
The druid’s words from days ago echoed in my mind.Born at the base of the Heartwood. The Hollow remembers.
“Rowen…” I murmured, but she shook her head sharply.
“No. This is wrong. They’re wrong. The Hollow is alive, yes. A land with memory, yes. But it’s not a weapon.”
“Maybe not,” Diesel said flatly. “But they want to use it like one.”
Jaxson raised a hand. “We think they’re trying to strip the Hollow of its autonomy. To make it something they control. Territory that only answers to them.”
My wolf snarled in protest at the thought.
Rowen’s voice trembled with visible anger. “They want control over the dead and the living.”
Killian muttered a curse. “The larger the territory they hold, the more they can control. No alpha would stand a chance.”
Tariq’s gaze sharpened. “Which is exactly why they want you discredited. Or dead. Preferably both.”
I leaned forward, hands clasped, voice low enough to shake the table. “They’re not getting either, and they’re not getting these packlands.”
Jaxson nodded slowly. “I was really hoping you’d say that. But, Wolfe, you also need to understand just how far they’re willing to go.”
I met his eyes. “Tell me.”
Jaxson swallowed once. “I sent my brother to the Pack Council because he was here.” His eyes flicked to Rowen. “I made him play the jilted, jealous lover card.” When Rowen murmured her protest, Jaxson had the decency to look abashed. “I needed them sloppy. Sloppy arrogance has atendency to have a loose tongue.” He swallowed, licking his lips nervously. “Dex thinks they’re planning to sever every pack bond tied to this region. Not just yours. All of them.”
Rowen inhaled sharply, one hand dropping protectively to her stomach—reflexive, instinctive. Killian cursed quietly, and Diesel’s snarl rattled the beams overhead.
“They plan to kill every alpha,” I mused. I sat back, the decision weighing heavy and unmovable in my chest. “Then we don’t wait,” I said. “We don’t hide. We don’t submit. If they want war?—”
“You’ll give it to them,” Jaxson finished.
“No,” I said, eyes sliding to Rowen. “Wewill.” I looked back at him. “That includes you, Alpha.”
Rowen looked up, fury, certainty, and heartbreak all visible in her gaze. “They won’t take our land,” she said softly. “Or our people. Or our future.” She rubbed her stomach again. “They’re not taking your son’s sacrifice from him either,” she said fiercely. “Emberfell is your home. Your packlands. We’ll get it back.”
Jaxson nodded, hope shining in his eyes. “You mean it,” he breathed, sharing a glance with Tariq. “Every one of my fighters is ready to fight, if you’ll have us.”
“We will,” I told him clearly.
