Chapter 5 The Alliance of Wolves

Three days had passed since the meeting under the blood moon.

And Aria still couldn't sleep.

Her heart hadn't stopped thudding since she'd touched Damien's chest and felt his heartbeat answer hers. She'd barely spoken a word to him since, but the memory kept invading her quietest moments. The weight of his regret. The honesty in his voice. The way Caleb had looked at him-not with fear, but with curiosity.

And that was the most dangerous part.

Because for the first time in three years... she didn't hate him.

Not completely.

"You're thinking about him again."

Aria blinked and turned toward Ronan, who stood by the edge of her tent, arms folded, the early morning mist curling around his boots.

"I'm thinking about the pack," she said stiffly.

"Same thing," Ronan muttered. "You've barely eaten. You haven't trained. Caleb asked me if his father was a ghost."

Aria winced. "He's not ready for that conversation."

"No," Ronan agreed. "But you are."

She turned away.

Ronan sighed, stepping closer. "I'm not judging you, Aria. I just... I don't want to see you tangled in something that might end with more pain. You survived too much to drown in old love."

"It's not love anymore," she said quietly. "It's something else. Something heavier."

"Then you better figure out what to do with it," he said. "Because Damien may have stepped down as Alpha, but he didn't step away from you."

Aria didn't answer. Because deep down, she already knew.

Bloodmoon – Former Alpha Quarters

Damien stood before the full council-what remained of it.

Silas now held the Alpha ring. Reluctantly, but firmly.

Many elders had stepped down. Some disappeared before they could be questioned. One, Elder Vaughn, was found dead near the eastern riverbank, his throat ripped out by what looked like a rogue wolf.

No one claimed responsibility.

No one had to.

Damien paced the room, unease tightening his gut.

The cost of his failure echoed in every quiet corner. But something had shifted. Something new had begun to form in the ashes.

"Any word from Aria?" Silas asked.

"She sent a raven," Damien replied. "Three days ago."

"And?"

"She wants a meeting. Not between us. Between packs."

Silas stiffened. "She's proposing an alliance?"

Damien nodded. "I think she knows war is coming. Real war. Beyond us."

"Then we better listen."

Later That Night – Aria's Encampment

Aria stood before the firepit, surrounded by her warriors.

Scouts had returned from the western ridge with news: a mercenary pack known as the Stonefang Clan was moving across the mountains-burning rogue camps, enslaving smaller dens, and leaving symbols of a blood cult in their wake.

"They're not Bloodmoon," Ronan said. "Not loyal to any Alpha."

"They're hired by someone," Aria said. "Someone who wants to see us wiped out before we ever reach strength."

She looked across the circle.

"We're too scattered. Too exposed. If we want to survive this, we need more than just vengeance. We need a united front."

The murmurs were uncertain.

"You want to align with Bloodmoon?" one of the younger rogues asked.

Aria didn't flinch. "No. I want to align with the wolves willing to fight beside us-regardless of where they came from."

Ronan stepped forward. "She's right. If this Stonefang Clan keeps gaining ground, it won't matter who your Alpha was or what your tattoo says. We'll all be dead."

The rogue warriors grumbled, but the tension shifted. Something unspoken passed between them-fear, yes, but also fire.

"We meet them at dawn," Aria said. "Neutral ground. No weapons. No lies."

And then she turned away, her gaze lingering on the sky.

The Following Morning – The Summit Clearing

The meeting site was an old warrior arena-half-collapsed stone columns, moss-covered runes, and a wide, flat center where wolves once trained in the old ways.

Now, it held the future of the packs.

Aria arrived first, flanked by Ronan and two elite guards. Caleb stayed back at the camp under watch.

When Damien arrived, he brought only Silas and a healer.

The moment their eyes met, the wind stilled.

There were no greetings.

No smiles.

Just weight.

"I read your letter," Damien said.

"And?"

"You were right. The Stonefang threat is real."

Aria nodded. "I want an alliance. But not in words."

"What, then?"

"In blood."

Damien tilted his head.

She stepped forward, withdrawing a dagger from her belt. "Old pact. Warrior-style. We cut, we bind, we swear under the moon."

Damien didn't hesitate. He pulled out his own blade.

Together, they sliced their palms, then pressed them together.

Blood met blood.

And the bond between them flared-hot, unrelenting, alive.

Both of them gasped.

The connection was still there.

Buried under grief.

Smoldering under scars.

But not gone.

Never gone.

Hours Later – In Camp

Aria retreated to her tent, hands shaking.

The blood oath had done more than forge an alliance-it had awakened the mate bond again. And it was stronger than before. Not because of love.

Because of pain.

Pain shared. Pain survived.

Outside, the warriors were already preparing.

A joint patrol would ride at dusk. The rogue banners would fly beside Bloodmoon's silver fang.

She knew what came next.

A war council.

A battle plan.

And eventually... a confrontation with the Stonefangs.

But first...

She had to face her son.

That Night – By the Fire

Caleb sat cross-legged, carving shapes into the dirt.

When Aria approached, he didn't look up.

"I saw you cut your hand," he said.

She knelt beside him. "It's part of a ritual. To form an alliance."

"With that man?"

She hesitated. "Yes."

Caleb didn't speak for a while.

Then, softly, "Is he my father?"

Aria's throat tightened. "Yes."

"Why didn't he raise me?"

"Because he made a terrible mistake," she whispered. "And I didn't want you to grow up hurt by it."

Caleb looked at her then. His silver eyes-her eyes-searched her face.

"Do I have to like him?"

"No," she said gently. "You just have to know that none of this was your fault."

He nodded slowly.

And leaned into her.

She held him tightly, heart aching, soul torn in two.

Far Away – In the Shadows of the Mountains

Stonefang warriors gathered under blood banners.

Their Alpha, a towering brute named Korvik, lifted a burning brand and shoved it into a wolf's chest. The beast howled in agony.

"Find her," Korvik snarled. "The rogue queen. Bring me her head. And bring me the boy."

"Why the boy?" his second asked.

Korvik grinned, jagged teeth gleaming.

"Because his blood is prophecy."