Ryan stood at the edge of the clearing, his breath misting in the cold night air. His decision was made. He was going back—back to Mia. No more delays, no more excuses. His father's words still rang in his ears, but Ryan's heart and his wolf were one in this choice. Mia needed him. He needed her even more. He had already told his Beta to prepare for his departure at dawn. For the first time in weeks, there was a sense of hope burning in his chest.
But hope shattered in an instant.
The sharp cry of a pack warrior tore through the night. It was followed by another—agonized, cut short. Ryan's head snapped up, his wolf instantly alert. The scent of blood drifted in the wind, metallic and raw. Then came the howls—feral, vicious, not of his pack. Rogues.
"Alpha!" his Beta sprinted toward him, blood staining his shoulder. "The rogues— they broke through the eastern line. They've killed two of our men already!"
Ryan's golden eyes flared, his fury igniting like wildfire. His claws itched to tear, to rip, to destroy. The night that was supposed to mark his return to Mia had now been stained with the blood of his people.
He shifted instantly, bones snapping, fur bristling, his massive wolf form towering under the moonlight. His roar shook the forest, a sound of pure rage and command. His pack members rallied, but the rogues had come in numbers, eyes gleaming red, their snarls echoing in the dark.
Ryan charged into them without hesitation. His claws ripped through one rogue's chest, his jaws snapped the neck of another. His fury was unmatched, but it was more than just duty that fueled him—it was Mia. Every strike, every kill was driven by the thought of her, by the desperate need to end this war so he could finally go to her.
Blood sprayed, fur tangled, the earth itself seemed to tremble beneath the violence. The rogues were vicious, but Ryan was merciless. Still, he could hear the cries of his fallen—pack brothers whose lives had been stolen in his absence. His rage deepened.
"No more," he growled through the link, his voice reverberating in the minds of his warriors. "We finish this tonight. Every last one of them dies."
He went deeper into the forest, tracking the rogues that had retreated, refusing to let them escape. The trees blurred past him as he pursued, his senses sharp, his blood pounding with a singular purpose: to eradicate every threat that dared touch his pack. To make the forest itself fear his wrath.
With each kill, he grew more determined. The rogues had tried to weaken him, to steal from him. But Ryan would not be broken. He would wipe them out to the last, so that when he left—when he finally returned to Mia—nothing would stand in his way.
And in the shadows of the forest, soaked in blood and vengeance, Ryan swore silently to himself: Once this is done, nothing will keep me from her again. Not rogues, not duty, not even my father. Mia is mine—and I will go back to her.
---
The forest was drenched in blood and howls.
Ryan's chest heaved, his golden eyes flashing like molten fire beneath the silver moon. He had been fighting for hours, his claws soaked in crimson, his fur torn and streaked with dirt. The rogues came in endless waves, snarling, biting, lunging with reckless abandon. But Ryan—Alpha of his pack—stood tall at the center of it all, his power radiating outward like a storm that refused to break.
Every strike he dealt was calculated, precise, born from years of combat and sharpened by instinct. He ripped through two wolves with a single swipe, his roar shaking the trees. His men fought harder seeing him at the front, their courage tied to his presence. If Ryan fell, they knew their line would crumble.
"Hold your ground!" Ryan's voice thundered through the pack link, raw and commanding. "Protect the borders! Not one of them steps past this line!"
"Yes, Alpha!" his warriors chorused, their voices tight with fear but strengthened by his dominance.
Still, Ryan's heart carried a distraction heavier than the blood on his claws. Mia.
The image of her lingered in his mind even in the chaos—her smile, the way her eyes softened when she looked at him, the warmth that curled in his chest when she laughed. He had promised himself this battle would be the last. That once he pushed the rogues back, he would go to her, tell her everything, and never let her go.
That promise gave him strength. It made him fight like a beast unchained.
But fate is cruel.
From the shadows at the tree line, a rogue emerged unlike the others—half-shifted, towering, his skin glistening with sweat and rage. In his hands gleamed something Ryan hadn't expected in a wolf fight. A weapon. A spear of silver-tipped steel.
Ryan's instincts flared, but too late.
The rogue snarled and hurled the spear.
It sliced through the air with a sharp whistle, faster than Ryan could dodge in the crowded battlefield. The world seemed to slow, the moonlight glinting off the deadly point before it slammed into him, burying itself deep beneath his ribs.
The sound was wet and sickening.
Ryan's roar split the night, but this was not the roar of command or victory. It was pain. White-hot agony seared through him, his body jerking as the spear lodged deep. Blood gushed out, warm and fast, painting his fur and dripping onto the soil.
"Alpha!" his Beta cried through the mind-link, his voice sharp with fear. Pack members surged toward him, but Ryan raised his head, his voice a snarl that brooked no disobedience.
"Stay where you are!" he commanded, his tone edged with fury. "Do not falter! Fight!"
His knees buckled. For a moment, the ground tilted beneath him, the shadows swaying. But he would not fall. He refused to fall. Gritting his teeth, Ryan wrapped a bloody claw around the shaft and ripped the spear out in one brutal motion. His blood poured faster, the wound gaping, his vision flashing with white spots.
The rogue who had thrown it grinned savagely and charged, leading a pack of others.
Ryan bared his teeth, his wolf raging inside him, demanding vengeance. With the broken spear in his claws, slick with his own blood, he swung it like a weapon. The jagged end pierced through the chest of the first rogue that lunged. With a feral snarl, Ryan snapped the shaft in half and jammed the other end into another's throat.
Blood sprayed, coating his muzzle. His wound burned, but his fury burned hotter.
"Come!" Ryan roared, his voice a thunderclap that shook the trees. "I will kill every last one of you!"
The rogues answered with howls, throwing themselves at him. Ryan met them head-on, his claws slashing, his fangs tearing, his movements fueled by desperation and rage. For every drop of his blood that fell, he took one of theirs. He ripped out throats, crushed bones beneath his claws, his golden eyes blazing with unyielding fire.
Yet the weakness gnawed at him. His limbs trembled, his side slick and warm, his breath ragged. Still he pressed on. He could not fall. Not here. Not now.
Mia… I have to live. I have to come back to you.
His wolf snarled in agreement, lending him strength he didn't know he had. He lunged at the rogue who had thrown the spear, slamming him into the ground. Their snarls shook the clearing as they wrestled, claws raking fur and flesh. With a final surge, Ryan sank his teeth into the rogue's throat, tearing it open in a spray of blood. The body convulsed, then stilled.
But there was no time to breathe. More rogues came, circling, testing his weakness.
Ryan swayed, his fur matted with blood, but he stood tall, shoulders squared, eyes blazing. He would not let them see his weakness. He would not let them break his pack.
"Alpha," his Beta called again, panic laced in his voice, "fall back—we can take it from here—"
"No!" Ryan snarled, cutting him off. "As long as I stand, we fight!"
His wolf howled, a sound that rolled like thunder through the battlefield, striking fear into the hearts of rogues and rallying his men. For a moment, the tide shifted, the pack surging with renewed strength.
But deep inside, Ryan knew. His blood loss was great. His strength, though vast, was not infinite. Every second he fought was a gamble against the darkness pressing in on his vision.
He lifted his head to the moon, his chest heaving, his body trembling.
I cannot fall. Not until it's over. Not until she knows.
And with that thought, Ryan charged once more, blood spraying from his wound, his claws raised for war.