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There.

The oak is ancient; three men couldn’t circle its trunk. I synchronize with my wolf leaping into the air, landing on a branch, and gently rest Arlene on the thick branch. I place the pups on each side of her. I settle the pups on either side of their mother. “Listen to me,” I say, my voice low and hard. “No matter what you hear… no matter what happens, don’t come down until I come back for you. Do you understand?”

Damian nods, his small face pale but serious. Darlene whispers, “We promise.”

Arlene’s eyes flutter open. For a second, our gazes lock, a silent, desperate exchange of fear and resolve. Then I turn and leap from the branch, landing silently in the leaf litter below.

I turn and run back the way I came, not away from the howls but straight toward them. The forest blurs. My wolf takes over, our senses sharpening into a single, lethal point. I catch the first scent, sweat, pine resin, aggression. He’s lagging behind the others, overconfident.

I don’t howl. I don’t announce myself. I use the low hanging bough of a hemlock, swing up and drop behind him as he passes beneath. My forearm locks around his throat before he can cry out. One sharp twist. A clean snap. I lower his body into the ferns without a sound.

The second one hears the rustle. He turns, eyes wide in the gloom, just as I close the distance. My claws rip upward, opening him from gut to chin. He chokes on blood instead of a warning.

The third is smarter. He’s waiting behind a thicket, axe in hand. I feint left; he swings. The axe bites deep into oak. Before he can free it, I’m on him, driving him back, using his own momentum to slam his skull against the tree trunk. Once. Twice. He slumps.

Four down. Two remain. They’ve finally realized they’re not hunting anymore. I hear them circle, trying to flank me. Good. Let them come. The larger one charges from my blind side, a classic pincer move. I drop, sweep his legs, and sink my teeth into his jugular before he hits the ground. Hot blood floods my mouth. The last one freezes. I see the shift in his posture, hunter to prey. He backs away, steps snapping twigs like gunshots in the quiet.

I don’t give him the chance to run. I lunge. My fist connects with his sternum. Bones crack. He gasps, air stolen, as I drive him down into the leaf litter and finish it. I stand slowly, breathing hard, listening. More are coming and I’m ready for them.

Kill the threat to pups. Kill the threat to mate.

JUSTIN’S POV

I smell it before the others do. Always do. Dad said I inherited his nose and his mother’s before that. Fresh copper, pine resin underneath it.

“Blood.” Derek and Marcus stop walking. “What?” Derek’s already got that look , the one where his jaw gets tight and his eyes narrow like I’ve personally insulted him by existing. He’s been doing that all shift. Every time I open my mouth.

“Someone’s hurt. We should contact Luna & Alpha.”“No. This is a situation where wolves get promoted.” Marcus says. “Right,” Derek chimed in.

I open the mindlink while they continue their banter and we head towards the blood scent.

“Luna. Alpha. We’re at the eastern border, close to the boundary, I smell a strong blood scent. Derek and Marcus are with me. We're heading to investigate. Justin reporting.”

The answer comes back fast. Both in unison, in all three of our heads. “Investigate. But be smart.”

“You contacted them?” Derek asked. Marcus grabbed his shoulder, “No this is perfect. We can show them what we can do.”

We track the scent, it’s getting stronger, thickening with every step, and underneath it now I catch something else. Pup fear. The oak hits me before I see it. Massive. Old. The kind of tree that’s been holding this territory longer than Silver Moon has been a pack. And up there , thirty feet up, wedged into the crook where two branches split.

“Don’t move.” Derek’s hand is on my arm again. “That’s a rogue nest.”

“It’s not a nest, it’s a shewolf.” I can see her now , dark hair, pale skin, the glint of something wet and red along her shoulder. And beside her, pressed tight against either flank, two small shapes. Pups. Young ones. “She’s hurt. Bad.”

Marcus circles to the right, low and predatory. “Bait. Classic rogue play. A wounded shewolf, pups as props. You go up, they signal their friends and attack.”

“There’s nobody else for half a mile.” I step closer to the trunk. The shewolf’s head lolls. She’s not tracking us. She’s not tracking anything.

“Or spies,” Derek adds, eyes narrowing. “Get information about our defenses. We need to eliminate them.”

“They’re children,” I say, staring at their tear streaked faces. “The shewolf is wounded… possibly dying.”

“Not our problem,” Marcus says. “Protocol dictates we eliminate threats at the border.”

“Exactly threats, not pups and protocol also dictates when pups are involved the Luna has the final decision. We need to wait for Alpha and Luna,” I insist, remembering my father’s teachings. “Patrol warriors report findings. They don’t make life and death decisions regarding pups.” Marcus snorts. “Kid, you’ve been on patrol for what, three months? When you’ve been doing this as long as we have...”

“When I’ve been doing this as long as you have, I’ll still follow protocol,” Justin interrupts. “That’s what my father taught me, and he served this pack for forty years.”

Derek steps closer, towering over me. “Your father’s not here. And neither is the Alpha or Luna. This is our call now.”