The wind no longer whispered.
It roared, rattled, and cracked through the trees, tearing at the snow-draped world with fury that felt personal. Storm clouds, thick and gray, hung low above the treetops, suffocating what little light the winter sun offered. The entire territory crouched in a fragile silence, as though holding its breath.
Inside the Alpha's hall, the warmth of the fire did little to soothe the tension in the air.
I sat near the hearth, one hand on my stomach, the other clenched around the edge of the wooden chair. The baby moves less these days, quiet and still, as if sensing the weight that hung over our pack. My breath was shallow. Every hour that passed felt like a countdown.
Kael hadn't returned from the border patrol.
Lyra sat across from me, her long dark braid resting over her shoulder. Her hands, too, were on her stomach growing larger every week, mirroring mine. She looked different now. Older, not in age, but in the way women age when war hovers close.
"We need to prepare," she said suddenly, her voice breaking the silence.
"For what?"
"For the possibility that neither of us makes it through this."
I met her gaze. "You think they'll come that hard?"
"I don't think anything. I know. The rogues are hungry. They smell weakness, no matter how loud Kael tries to roar."
I looked toward the window. "Then we don't give them weakness. We give them fire."
By nightfall, the border had fallen under attack again.
It wasn't a siege more like wolves poking the belly of a wounded beast, waiting for the perfect spot to sink their teeth. But this time, they pressed farther. They reached the lower hunting paths. The warriors sent to stop them returned bloodied and broken.
Kael stormed into the hall just before dawn, his coat torn, his face streaked with dirt and sweat.
"They're splitting into cells," he growled. "Striking from all directions. We can't be everywhere."
Callen trailed behind him, limping slightly. His left arm hung stiff at his side.
"We need a different strategy," Callen said. "They're not looking for a fight. They're looking for a crack."
I stood slowly, pain shooting through my back. "Then we close the cracks."
Kael turned to me, eyes burning. "You can't be out there."
"This is my pack too."
His jaw clenched. "You're carrying my child."
"And you're not the only one with blood on the line," I snapped.
Lyra rose beside me. "We'll defend the den. If they get past you, they'll meet us."
Kael looked between us, torn between the fear of losing and the fear of letting go.
"You'll have guards," he said finally. "No arguments."
"Fine," Lyra answered. "But if they come through that door, I won't wait for permission."
The next two days blurred into a rhythm of tension.
Sentries rotated in faster shifts. Supplies were moved to inner chambers. Warriors slept in armor. Mothers hid their pups in the eastern caves, away from the front line. There was no laughter. No music. Just the heavy thud of boots and the low growl of strategy.
Callen stayed close to me. Sometimes too close.
"You don't need to protect me," I told him as he followed me into the library where maps and scrolls had replaced books.
"I'm not here because I have to be."
"Then why?"
He hesitated, then looked away. "Because I believe in you. Even if he doesn't."
My heart tightened. "Kael believes. He's just broken."
"Then he better fix himself fast," Callen muttered. "Because if you fall, there won't be a pack left to fight for."
The storm broke the night before the new moon.
It started with a howl long, deep, full of hunger and challenge. Then another. Then another. Dozens.
Kael flew out the door with half the warriors behind him. The rest locked down the hall.
I stood in the center of the room, the child inside me twisting as if it too heard the howls. Lyra stood to my left, her eyes narrowed. Her hand never left her belly. Despite everything, she didn't look afraid. She looked ready.
The first wave hit the southern gates.
The sound of snarls and steel clashing rang through the night. The scent of blood came next thick and fresh, rolling in through cracks in the wood.
Callen returned once to check on us.
"They're pushing hard," he said, out of breath. "Kael's holding the line. But they're coming from behind too."
"From where?"
"The western ridge. No one expected it."
I reached for the wall to steady myself as a sharp cramp twisted through me. I bit back a sound. Not now. Not tonight.
Callen saw the movement. "You okay?"
"I'm fine."
His gaze dropped to my stomach. "You sure?"
"No."
Hours passed. The fighting moved closer.
Howls echoed from the training grounds now. That was too close. The den was next.
I looked at Lyra. "We can't wait."
She nodded. "We arm ourselves."
Two guards moved to block us as we headed toward the weapons wall.
"You're not going out there," one said.
"I'm not," I replied. "But I won't be defenseless if they get in."
He hesitated. Then stepped aside.
I gripped a short blade, balanced and sharp. It felt cold in my palm but comforting. Lyra grabbed a spear. She moved like someone who had trained alone, in silence, out of sight of judgment. The way survivors did.
The door shook.
Then again.
And again.
Callen burst in, dragging a rogue by the collar before slamming the door shut with his boot.
"They're in the yard," he said. "I got him before he reached the second level."
The rogue moaned. Blood dripped from his mouth.
Callen looked at me. "You need to go to the chamber. Now."
"I'm not hiding."
"Not for hiding. For birthing."
I blinked. "What?"
He stepped forward. "You're in labor."
I hadn't even noticed it happening. The cramping had turned into waves of pain, low and slow and steady.
Lyra stared at me. "It's too early."
"Too late now," Callen said.
"I'm not leaving her," Lyra said.
Callen didn't argue.
They helped me into the healer's chamber, a space meant for tending wounds, not welcoming life.
The walls shook with each boom from outside. I gripped the edges of the table as another wave of pain rolled through me.
"It's too fast," I gasped.
"The body knows what to do," Lyra said, taking my hand.
Sweat poured down my back. My vision blurred.
Kael crashed through the door ten minutes later, covered in blood, panting hard. His eyes locked on mine.
"You came," I whispered.
"I'd tear the earth open to get here."
He rushed to my side, his hand resting against my cheek, then my belly.
"I thought I'd lose you," he said.
"You still might," I panted. "But not without a fight."
The healer arrived just as the pain peaked. Everything after that came in flashes, shouts