Every eye in the room turns to me. Some hold suspicion, others reluctant hope. Oren’s expression gives nothing away as he gestures for me to continue.
I run my finger along the eastern border of the map where Thornridge territory bleeds into unclaimed wilderness. “The main encampment sits in a natural basin surrounded by ridgelines on three sides. Mordaunt chose it because it’s defensible; there are only two approaches wide enough for a vehicle, and he keeps both of them heavily guarded.”
“So we’re looking at a frontal assault?” Wyn asks.
“No. Frontal assault is suicide.” I tap a spot on the map about two miles north of the camp. “But there’s a third way in. A dried riverbed that cuts through the northern ridge. It’s too narrow for vehicles, which is why Mordaunt never bothered fortifying it. The path is rough, barely passable even on foot, but a small team could use it to slip in undetected.”
Reeyan leans in to study the terrain. “How small?”
“Four, maybe five wolves. Any more than that and we risk detection.”
Kira speaks up from her position next to Dorian. “What about the prisoners? Where would they be held?”
“Thornridge keeps captives in a bunker on the eastern edge of camp.” I move my finger to indicate the location. “Underground, reinforced walls, and a single point of entry. It’s designed to be escape-proof.”
“Which also makes it a death trap if something goes wrong,” Aidan observes.
“Yes. But Mordaunt’s arrogance works in our favor. He’s so confident in the bunker’s security that he only posts two guards at the entrance during standard operations.” I pause, remembering countless nights walking past that bunker and wondering about the people trapped inside. “The rest of thesecurity focuses on the perimeter. Get past the outer defenses, and the interior is surprisingly vulnerable.”
Oren drums his fingers against the table. “You said standard operations. What about now? Mordaunt knows you’ve defected. He’ll be expecting retaliation.”
“He will,” I nod, acknowledging the complication. “Mordaunt is paranoid on his best days. After my defection, he’ll have tripled patrols and changed all the rotation schedules I knew. The guard positions I just described might be completely different by the time we arrive.”
“Then how do we plan for variables we can’t predict?” Dorian demands.
“We don’t plan for specific positions. We plan for Mordaunt’s psychology. He’s obsessive about hierarchy. The wolves he trusts most get assigned to protect him personally. The ones he considers expendable get stuck on prisoner detail.”
Ash tilts her head. “Because guarding prisoners isn’t glamorous.”
“Exactly. Mordaunt sees captives as leverage, not threats. He won’t waste his best fighters babysitting people who can’t escape anyway. The guards we encounter at the bunker will be lower-ranking wolves, probably newer recruits who haven’t proven themselves yet.”
“Easier to subdue,” Wyn finishes.
“Or convince.”
Silence falls over the room. I can feel the weight of their skepticism pressing against me from all sides, but I don’t back down.
“Not every wolf in Thornridge believes in what Mordaunt is doing. Some of them are just scared. They followed ordersbecause defying the alpha meant death, not because they wanted to hurt anyone. If we can get to those wolves before the fighting starts, we might be able to turn them.”
Oren exchanges a look with Dorian. “That’s a big gamble.”
“I know. But it’s also our best chance of getting everyone out alive, including my people who never asked to be part of Mordaunt’s war.”
The distinction matters to me, even if it doesn’t matter to anyone else in this room. Thornridge isn’t a monolith. It’s a pack full of wolves who ended up there through circumstance rather than choice, wolves like me and Jonas who were absorbed from conquered territories and raised to believe that Mordaunt’s brutality was normal. Some of them have become true believers. Others are just trying to survive until something better comes along.
I was one of the survivors. Maybe Jonas is, too.
Before anyone can respond, the door opens again, and a young scout rushes in. He’s breathing hard, like he ran the whole way from wherever he was posted.
“Alpha Blacklock.” He addresses Oren with a hasty bow. “We intercepted a Thornridge communication. The prisoner detail has been assigned.”
My blood turns to ice. “Who’s leading it?”
The scout, Deon, glances at me with a look that can only be described as pity. “Jonas Walzak. Your brother.”
The world narrows to a single point. Jonas. My little brother, the one I’ve spent sixteen years trying to protect, is now standing directly between me and the prisoners we need to rescue. If I go on this mission, I might have to fight him. Hurt him. Kill him.
The thought makes bile rise in my throat.
