Chapter 91: supposed to be
Chapter 91
Lenora
My heart is breaking.
What has Alric done to this place? This is his home too. My home. I thought I was prepared from what they told us. But hearing about the decay and seeing it with my own eyes are two completely different things.
The pack lands feel... hollow. Houses that used to hum with laughter are falling apart, windows cracked, doors off their hinges. There are pups with ribs showing beneath threadbare shirts, mothers with hollow cheeks, and wolves with eyes that look anywhere but at me. It smells of neglect and despair. And something inside me burns.
I walk slowly, taking it all in, and my heart aches with every step. But more than that—I’m angry. Furious. How could he let it get this bad?
"Things have changed, huh?" a familiar voice says softly at my side.
I turn and find Nana standing there. She’s thinner than I remember, her back more stooped, but her eyes still hold that unshakable light. Somehow, she still smiles.
"Nana," I breathe. Guilt coils in my chest. "I’m sorry we left. If we’d stayed—"
She waves me off before I can finish. "All is the goddess’ way," she says, voice gentle but firm, as if soothing a child.
"Don’t carry a burden that isn’t yours."
I look around again at the rotting homes, the cracked earth. "But how could he let things get this bad? Alric was never... good, but this?" My voice cracks.
"This is cruelty."
Nana exhales, her shoulders sagging with the weight of truth.
"He’s been blinded for a long time, little one. Lost, ages ago. Some wolves never find their way back."
I’m about to respond when a commotion catches my attention. A scuffle. Low snarls. I whip my head toward the sound and freeze.
I recognize one of the wolves. Sure, I’ve necessarily got along with the female wolves , but I’ll be damned if I stand by and watch one of them get assaulted in my presence.
A wolf I don’t recognize has his hand clamped around her arm, dragging her toward an alley. My feet move before my mind catches up, carrying me straight toward them.
"Don’t struggle, pretty one," the wolf purrs darkly, dragging her closer. She jerks, trying to claw his arm, but he’s too strong.
I reach them in three strides and lay my hand on his forearm.
"Let her go," I say, voice low, calm, and deadly.
The girl’s wide eyes flick to me, relief flooding her face.
"Lenora," she whispers.
The male has the audacity to laugh. He doesn’t even glance at me properly, just smirks like I’m an inconvenience.
"Or else what?" he taunts, his tone mocking.
Ha. Seems word hasn’t spread about me, or maybe he’s just that stupid.
My claws extend with a whisper of sound. In one swift motion, I sink them deep into his arm so deep I feel the scrape of bone.
He screams, high-pitched and panicked. The girl wrenches free and stumbles behind me.
"You bitch!" he snarls, clutching his bleeding arm. Rage twists his face as he shoves us, trying to regain the upper hand.
Let me show you what a real bitch is.
***
Torren
There are only two wolves in this pack that terrify me.
Eamon Maen.
And the demon he gave birth to.
People pretend they aren’t staring, but we all are. How could we not? She’s a vision of blood and fury, dragging a broken body behind her like it weighs nothing.
The wolf she drags is unrecognizable—mangled, his limbs bent at impossible angles. His wounds are trying to knit back together, his body doing its best to heal, but there’s too much damage. If those bones set like that, he’ll be crippled for life. And even if there were a chance to fix him, all the hospital equipment was sold off months ago. Alric made sure of that.
She doesn’t slow. Each step is steady, deliberate, dripping with power and rage. Blood smears the cracked pavement behind her, a crimson trail that silences every whisper.
She hauls him straight toward Alric’s house, and for the first time in months, I feel it.
Satisfaction that hums in my bones and makes my chest ache.
When she tosses the mangled wolf like garbage at the feet of his comrades—those Savage Claw bastards—they step back. These mercenaries who swagger around like gods, draining us dry, terrorizing us while we cower... they flinch. They move aside.
Good. They should.
"I brought the trash," she says coldly, voice carrying over the crowd. The words are knives, each one slicing deeper than claws ever could. Then she turns and walks away like she didn’t just humiliate the mercenaries in front of half the pack.
The Savage Claw wolves don’t take the insult well. Anger flashes in their eyes, and three of them move as one. I tense, already pushing forward, ready to step in. She’s strong, but these guys are killers—trained, brutal, and hungry for blood.
I needn’t have worried.
She’s on the first one before his claws are out, sweeping his legs out from under him and smashing her fist into his jaw so hard his teeth scatter like pebbles. The second lunges, only to be slammed into the dirt with a sickening crack. The third thinks he’s clever, coming from behind, leaping at her back with a snarl—
And is plucked out of the air like an unruly pup.
Cameron catches him mid-leap with one hand, his other still in his pocket. The casual ease with which he holds the mercenary off the ground is more terrifying than any show of violence.
The Savage Claw wolf freezes, dangling helplessly. Even I’m stunned at the ease.
Clearly, my help was unnecessary.
He tosses the wolf aside like he weighs nothing, his broken body landing in a heap near the mercenaries’ boots. None of them move to help him. None of them even speak.
And that’s when it hits me.
For months, it’s felt like we’ve been trapped in a waking nightmare—our alpha cowering in his office, the mercenaries bleeding us dry, the vampires always lurking beyond the trees. Every day has been darker than the one before.
This is who our leaders are supposed to be.