If you want to support or read some advanced chapters +8 please follow me on: patreon.com/Jayjayemp
"What the hell was that!"
Paul's words thundered in everyone's minds like a dry crack of lightning. The silence that followed was even louder, heavy with tension, as if every held breath was about to explode.
The wolves exchanged quick glances, charged with conflicting emotions. Some growled low, paws pressed into the earth, ears upright, fangs bared in impotent fury. Their bodies trembled, unable to decide if it was rage or fear. Others, however, remained motionless, their eyes fixed on Jacob, Leah, and Seth, unable to comprehend how the three had been reduced to such a state in mere minutes.
One of the newer members, dark-furred, took two steps back, pupils dilated. He didn't speak, but his thoughts were a scream shared in the minds of all: That wasn't possible. No one should have that kind of strength. Just hours earlier, he had felt invincible, as if the gift of transforming into a wolf placed him above all danger. Now, he realized maybe this whole transformation thing was far more dangerous than he had ever thought.
Embry broke the calm, his mental voice woven of disbelief and confusion:
"That was a Cold One, right? But… how could he move like that? It was almost like he knew what we were going to do before we even did it…"
The thought sparked more murmurs. The shared mind filled with projected memories: sharp blows, the crunch of bodies hitting the ground, Jacob dragged like a ragdoll, Leah crushed with surgical brutality, Seth reduced to a lifeless puppet. Images replayed over and over, because their connection left nothing hidden.
A snarl exploded in the clearing, slicing through the stream of memories. Paul again. His eyes burned with barely contained fury, fangs bared, his mental voice a thunderous roar:
"We can't let this slide! We can't allow some damned leech to humiliate us like that!"
His rage caught fire in some. Two wolves raised their heads immediately, paws tensed, tails bristling, as if the unspoken order had already been given. The urge to lunge after Nate burned in their bodies, even while fear still pulsed deep inside.
But not everyone followed the spark. Others lowered their gaze, tails twitching with visible unease, doubt marked in every movement. Fear echoed in their thoughts with undeniable clarity.
"Jacob is the strongest of us, and he was treated like a child…" murmured Quil, his mental voice carrying a tremor he couldn't hide. "…what would he do to us?"
The phrase fell like dead weight in the middle of the pack. The air grew denser, suffocating, heavy with the truth no one wanted to acknowledge.
None dared to look directly at Jacob. The massive wolf kept his head low, ears back, muscles rigid. His silence was a confession more painful than any word. Leah, leaning on Seth, kept her eyes averted, her breathing uneven. And Seth… barely stood, gaze lost, trapped in the memory of the moment he was taken down without a chance to defend himself.
The entire pack understood that if Jacob, Leah, and Seth kept quiet, it was because there was nothing to say. Their silence weighed more than any explanation.
Then Jared, who until that moment hadn't sent a single thought, slowly lifted his head. His eyes swept over the group, steady, his mental voice cold, sharp, like a knife cutting through the thick air of the clearing:
"Whatever he is… we need to go after him."
Jared's cold thought spread through the bond like a spark falling into a pool of gasoline.
Leah was the first to react. She couldn't hold it back; her fear, mixed with frustration and rage, burst like a tearing scream that everyone felt in their own flesh:
"You don't know what you're saying, Jared!"
Images spilled out unfiltered: Nate appearing from nowhere, his movements impossible to follow, the way he anticipated every strike. Leah forced them to see it, to feel it, to relive it.
"That leech isn't like how Cold Ones are supposed to be. Not even in the legends! It's said that a Spirit Warrior can, under certain conditions, take down a Cold One alone. And three together… three of us, including the strongest in the tribe, should have torn him apart!"
The echo of her words hit hard in every mind. No one dared interrupt her. Leah continued, her mental voice trembling between fury and fear:
"But that's not what happened. That Cold One held back most of the fight. He didn't fight to kill us, and even so, he crushed us. Physically, he was stronger than any of us… but the worst, the most terrifying part, was that he always seemed to know what we were going to do. As if he could read our moves before we even thought of them."
The bond shrank beneath the weight of that truth. They all saw the same thing: Nate weaving between them with impossible calm, striking with precise, calculated blows, almost cruel in their efficiency.
"A Cold One like that is dangerous," Leah concluded, her voice edged with desperation. "Even if all of us went against him, twelve, fifteen… I know several of us would end up dead."
The silence that followed was unbearable. The thought of loss—of seeing brothers fall—cut deep into every heart, pulling low growls, ragged breaths, and hesitant steps from some of the youngest.
Then Paul erupted. His fury, like wildfire, tore through whatever space for doubt remained.
"Enough whining! We Quileute are no cowards!" Paul roared in the shared mind, fangs bared, his body vibrating with rage. "No Cold One is invincible! They never have been!"
His thoughts shifted into images: the tribe's history, the warriors who had protected La Push at the cost of their lives, the pride of a lineage that never retreated. And with that blazing voice, he added, like a whip:
"You yourselves managed to scratch him! Or have you forgotten that thing isn't untouchable?!"
A few growls of approval resounded. The most impulsive clung to those words like a lifeline. But the heaviness in the air remained: everyone remembered that, beyond those scratches, the result had been devastating.
Seth, who until then had remained silent beside Leah, lifted his head just slightly. His mental voice was weak, hesitant, burdened with a strange weight for someone so young:
"That… only happened because I caught him off guard, when I shifted into human form. I don't think that trick will work again."
His thoughts sank into the bond like stones into a lake. The image of Nate grabbing him by the neck, the crushing pressure that had left him breathless, still made him shudder. Even so, he went on, with a tremor in his soul:
"And I think Leah is right. If we all go… I know we could beat him. But definitely some of us would fall."
Silence returned to the clearing, thicker and more oppressive than before. No one responded. Seth's words had sealed what they all feared to admit: that victory would not come without a price… and that perhaps none of them were willing to pay it.
The silence still weighed like a slab after Seth's words. No one dared break it, and yet, little by little, fear began to seep through the bond, creeping into the youngest minds.
It was then that Quil, as if he could no longer hold back his worries, spoke cautiously. His mental voice lacked Paul's fury or Leah's desperation, carrying instead a low, almost insecure tone, as if he feared putting into words what already lingered in their thoughts:
"And that's… if we catch him alone."
The echo of his reasoning sent a collective shiver through the pack. Several heads turned toward him, but Quil continued, each word sinking claws into the group's uncertainty:
"If the Cullens are with him… they'd definitely be able to kill us all."
The effect was immediate. The air shared through the bond thickened with a heavy, sticky fear, hard to swallow. The youngest took a few steps back, their paws crunching dry leaves with a sound that seemed deafening in the silence. The memory of Nate's speed and precision mingled with the image of the entire Cullen family fighting by his side. The mere thought was enough to draw involuntary tremors from more than one.
The echo of Quil's comment still hung in the air when, from the back of the group, a hesitant voice rose. It was one of the new ones, the black-furred wolf who until then had barely lingered on the edges, listening in silence. His timid thought crept into the bond, though he could not keep everyone from hearing it:
"B-but… we don't have to fight, right?"
At once, all eyes turned to him—some filled with confusion, others with disdain. The young wolf shrank a little, as if that attention weighed upon him, but still he forced himself to continue, his thoughts halting and nervous:
"I mean… It's not like that vampire wants to fight us. We had a treaty with the Cullens, didn't we? We could restore it and… and then there'd be no need to face him…"
In his mind, images began to flow that the others quickly shared: the Cullens walking among humans, blending in at Forks without raising suspicion, children at school laughing near them, Carlisle at the hospital with steady, skilled hands. They were borrowed memories, projections many recognized, for they had witnessed those very scenes before.
"They… kept their word not to attack. They've been living like that for years, without breaking the rules. I… I don't see the need to put ourselves at risk…"
The silence that followed was short but dense, like a rope about to snap. And then a deep growl thundered through the clearing. Sam stepped forward, tall and imposing, his shadow falling over the black-furred young wolf. His eyes burned with fierce intensity, and his mental voice struck like thunder, leaving no room for doubt:
"The treaty is broken!"
The roar in his mind was so strong it made more than one tremble. The young wolf instinctively retreated, but Sam stepped closer, his gaze locking on him with icy disdain.
"The Alpha has spoken. And if he says so, then it is so. The Cullens may be more civilized than the rest of their kind, but their presence in Forks has already cost an innocent life. Or do you forget?"
The image of Mrs. Winter's lifeless body flashed in the shared mind, like a dagger none could ignore. The weight of that truth pressed down on the air.
"Humans and Cold Ones must never mingle. Now we know that only brings misfortune."
Sam growled again, as if to make his point clearer.
"We failed Forks once already. We won't fail again. If the Alpha believes the best thing is to drive them out, then I support him. And so will you."
The words struck everyone in the pack like an unspoken command, a reminder of their hierarchy. The black-furred wolf lowered his head, trembling, painfully aware that his doubt had nearly turned into open defiance.
Jacob, who since the pack's arrival had not spoken a single word, finally straightened. His tense muscles radiated authority, and with a short, sharp order, he addressed Sam:
"Step back."
Sam met his eyes for only an instant, but the weight in Jacob's voice left no room for argument. He lowered his head and stepped back, yielding his place without another word.
Jacob advanced until he stood before the black-furred wolf, the newest of them all. His gaze softened slightly, and when he spoke, his mental voice was calm, almost didactic:
"I know you still don't understand the weight of what we are… I myself am new to all this. But you must understand one thing: the treaty has already proven it puts innocent lives at risk."
The tension in the bond stirred, as if his words had stoked embers beneath the ashes. Paul, who until then had been holding back his rage, stepped forward with quick strides. His mind burned with a barely disguised hunger, though all could feel it clearly through the link.
"Then… shall we hunt him, Jacob?"
Silence fell at once. Jacob did not respond immediately. He stood still, eyes fixed on the ground, while a faint sigh escaped his chest. He knew what that decision implied: not only would it place his own life on the line, but also the lives of all his brothers, and by extension, the safety of the entire tribe. That was the weight he had accepted when he became Alpha, even if it still felt crushing.
Sam, observing everyone's anticipation, stepped forward. His mind carried a mix of respect and a faint guilt that still haunted him since the day he had passed leadership to Jacob, just after his first transformation.
"Listen, all of you," he thought firmly. "Jacob is our leader. Let him decide. He'll speak with the council elders. We won't gain anything by staying here arguing."
Some lowered their heads in approval, accepting Sam's words. Others, however, showed their discontent. Tense gazes turned toward Jacob, as if demanding a decision from him at that very moment.
Jacob remained silent for a few more seconds, until he finally spoke, his deep voice carrying the authority everyone was waiting for:
"Disperse. Sam is right. I'll speak with the council and then we'll see what to do. For now, stop keeping watch on the Cullens. And no one… no one leaves the reservation until I say otherwise."
The order spread through the bond like a chain tightening the circle. Some nodded immediately and began retreating into the trees. But others, like Paul and Jared, stood their ground, motionless, their expressions hardened. The desire to challenge him was obvious.
Jacob sensed it instantly. He walked toward them with steady steps, and a low, resonant growl rose from his throat. Paul and Jared lowered their heads at once, yielding to the Alpha's strength. At last, they turned and left without another word.
The clearing emptied little by little, until only Jacob, Seth, and Leah remained. The last two stayed silent, watching Jacob with a mixture of concern and respect. They had been there. They knew, better than anyone, what they were truly facing.
It was Seth who broke the quiet, his voice low, timid, but filled with a sincerity that slipped through the bond like a whisper:
"Are you going to be okay, Jake?"
Jacob flinched slightly at the sound of that nickname. It struck him like an uncomfortable memory, for it was the same one Nate had used during the fight. For a second, the echo of that tone pierced his mind.
Shaking off the discomfort, he lifted his head and, with a slight nod, replied:
"Go home."
Leah and Seth obeyed in silence, giving him space. And Jacob, once he was alone, stood completely still in that clearing. Calmly, he lifted his gaze and looked at the moon, with the fleeting hope that in its light he might find the answer to everything that weighed on his mind…