Jamie's POV
I had never seen Furstone like this.
Even after the chaos cleared and the war cries faded into silence, a ghostly stillness lingered in the air, pungent with smoke, blood, and the lingering bellow of grief. Warriors limped across the grounds, their faces battered and bruised. Some tended to the bodies. Others remained frozen, shell-shocked, their wolves just concealed beneath, still snarling at ghosts long gone.
I walked through the ruins myself like a ghost. No one ever saw me. Maybe because I wasn't where I was. Maybe because I wasn't where I wasn't.
Maybe because I didn't see any of this.
But I did.
It was from the ridge where Andrew told me to get behind cover. From there, I saw everything.
The fury. The betrayal. The blood.
I saw Cassian fight like a madman, commanding warriors as if he were already the Alpha. Maelin fought behind him, booming orders, his voice rife with venom. Oona sliced through the battles like a spectre—her claws exuding raw power, cutting down foes like silk. There was something amiss with her power, something more than wolf strength. It felt ancient, monstrous, unnatural.
And Lilith—gods, Lilith—had progressed like poetry with venom in every step. Her wolf had shown up halfway into the battle, lovely and brutal. She'd fought not only with teeth and claws, but with a darkness I couldn't even begin to understand. Something corrupt. Something… evil.
But it was Andrew who changed the tide.
The moment he entered combat, it was as if the air around him had changed. He fought with grace and ease, shifting effortlessly between forms as if the beast inside him danced in unison with the man. I was on my feet, staring, gasping. This was the man I kissed in the moonlight. This was the boy I trusted with my fear. The one who made me believe that I wasn't broken.
Alpha Jackson had been wounded in the altercation. I hadn't witnessed it occurring initially, but there were whispers afterwards—it was Rufus himself who had delivered the blow, a strike to Furstone's head. The Alpha had lived, barely, through the curative properties of his wolf. But at what expense?
And still… I couldn't help feeling useless.
What was I? What could I do while other people fought and bled and belonged?
I wandered by myself, further into the edge of the pack grounds. I needed a room. Breathing space. Sanity.
But I got Lilith.
She emerged from the trees as if she were one with them, leaves curving to frame her beauty. Her eyes sparkled with something cruel, a smile at her mouth.
"Well, well…" she purred low. "Look who's still alive."
I didn't move. I didn't speak.
She moved closer. Her black hair flowed in the wind like ink on water.
"Oooh," she smirked, cocking her head. "Poor Jamie. Standing on the sidelines as usual. That's your place, isn't it? The Stoic observer. The mistake that somehow made it past the gates."
I clenched my fists, but didn't speak.
Her voice fell, silk smooth and razor-sharp. "You'll never be enough. Not for Andrew. Not for Furstone. And far less for whatever destiny you're clinging to. You're nothing."
I swallowed.
Lilith's laughter chilled me. "Afraid? You should be."
She stepped one final pace closer and leaned in close. "Watch your step, Jamie," she whispered. "Because with each step, you take yourself closer to your destruction."
And then, as suddenly as she arrived, she vanished, disappearing in the fog like a malignant nightmare.
I was powerless but to stand there, shaking, heart pounding, hands shaking, Lilith's words ringing as poison.
But what she didn't know… what she couldn't know, was that her words, meant to break me, had fueled something burning inside.
If I were to stand by Andrew—if I was to fight for him the way he'd fought for me—I had to be something more.
Something stronger.
Something worthy.