Knotted By The Three Feral Alphas

The scouts finally returned at dusk with fresh drawings of the Nightthorn main camp. I spread them across the war room table while the kings leaned in close.

Vespera’s forces had grown. Tents clustered in a wide bowl between two ridges, guards posted at every approach. Her two mates moved among the shelters, one tall and scarred, the other broad and heavy with rage. I traced the route with my finger and marked the narrow pass that would let us strike the center before they could form ranks and we took more plans for the attack and prepared adequately: weapons, horses, supplies and nightshade (poison) in case things go south.

We rode before the moon cleared the horizon. We were twenty riders in total, our cloaks dark, horses’ hooves wrapped in cloth to move clandestinely.

I led from the front, my blade strapped to my thigh, the ghastly wind cutting across my face. Darius stayed on my right. Kane on my left. Rylan took the rear. The bond between us felt tight and alive, carrying their focus straight into my chest.

Eventually, the camp appeared through the last line of trees, torches flickering like distant stars. We left the horses in a thicket and moved on foot the final stretch. My boots sank into the damp earth as I got off my horse. The air smelled of smoke and roasted meat. The bastards were eating already. I raised my fist signalling to move at the tree line. The group spread out, silent as shadows.

We hit them at the same moment.

The first guard went down with my blade across his throat before he could shout. Darius took the next with a single thrust. Kane slipped between two tents, knife flashing twice. Rylan’s axe swung low and took a man off his feet. The fight turned fast and ugly. Steel rang against steel. A wolf shifted mid-leap and Rylan’s axe met it before it landed but now without a scratch. I drove my blade into a man’s side as he turned toward me, twisting as I pulled free.

I pushed deeper into the camp, the heat from the fires scorching my face. A Nightthorn warrior lunged at me from the side of a burning tent but I parried and drove my sword through his shoulder, yanking it free as he fell. The kings stayed close, their presence a wall around me. The bond burned hot and steady, feeding me their focus, their rage, their determination to end this fast.

We reached Vespera’s tent. I kicked the flap open and stepped inside. She was not there. One of her mates stood at the center, the scarred one, his sword already drawn. His eyes locked on me, cold and calculating.

"You come here to die, bitch?!" He roared.

"Not today you ugly freak!" I yelled back.

He grunted and lunged at me. I met him blade to blade, the clash ringing through the tent. He was fast, but I was faster. I twisted under his swing and slashed across his side. Blood welled dark along his ribs. He staggered but did not fall. He breathed heavily with a roar and came at me again. I drove my sword into his thigh, twisting as I pulled free. He dropped to one knee, hand pressed to the wound.

"I will kill you, fucking bitch. You don’t know what you’ve done!" He winced in pain.

"Hahaha, [I cackled], it looks like you’re the one about you die you bastard!" I replied.

Darius burst in behind me and pinned the man’s sword arm.

Kane appeared at my side, knife at the mate’s throat. "Let me finish him already Elena!"

Rylan stood at the entrance, axe raised, blocking any escape.

The scarred mate glared up at me, breath ragged. "Vespera will burn everything you love," he spat. "She will take your children and remake the curse in their blood. You cannot stop her."

I looked down at him, the bond between the four of us roaring in my chest. "Tell her this when you crawl back to her in hell. We do not wait for her to come for us. We take the fight to her."

"Fuck Vespera and fuck you!" Rylan roared.

I nodded to Rylan to end him and his axe came down in a clean chop of his head. The mate stopped moving, his body thudding the floor.

"Bastard." I muttered.

We went out and burned the tent and took the supplies around it. The camp erupted in chaos. The remaining Nightthorn warriors broke and ran into the woods. We lost five men. They lost twelve. We took every map and scroll we could carry and rode back hard, the night air cold against our faces.

The rude back was quiet as a grace because what was there to say?

We eventually arrived home and the gates opened as we approached. Garrick met us in the bailey, his face grim as he saw the blood on my cloak and the empty saddles.

The pack gathered quickly as they saw us return, eyes on the maps and scrolls we carried. I stood in the center and unrolled the largest map. The pack pressed closer, voices low as they saw the markings.

I pointed to the main camp location. "Unfortunately, Vespera is there with her remaining mate and the bulk of their force. We killed her first mate. Her army are weaker now. We strike again before they can regroup."

The pack cheered, the sound raw and fierce. I stood there with the blood still drying on my cloak and the kings at my back and felt the keep shift beneath my feet. The Nightthorn Triad had drawn its line.

We would draw ours in steel and fire.

Back in the chambers the children were waiting. Lila ran to me the moment I stepped through the door, her small arms wrapping around my legs.

Thorne and Elara crawled across the furs toward me, their knees and elbows working in determined little circles. They were more active every day, their babbles turning into strings of sounds that almost sounded like words. Lila pointed at the blood on my cloak and said, "Mama, bad wolves again?" her small voice serious.

I knelt and pulled all three of them into my lap. "Yes, little one. But we are stronger."

The kings joined us, their hands gentle as they touched the children. Darius ruffled Lila’s curls. Kane let Thorne climb all over him. Rylan stretched out with Elara on his chest.

The bond between the four of us felt steady and warm. The strike had been fast and brutal, but we had come home with the information we needed. The twins babbled louder, their voices overlapping in excited sounds. Lila asked again about the bad wolves, her small face serious.

I held them close and let their warmth chase away the cold of the ride.

***************************

The next morning, the bailey lay quiet under the gray sky as we gathered to mourn and bury the fallen. Five bodies rested on simple wooden frames, cloaks drawn over them, their faces peaceful after the chaos of the raid. The pack stood in a wide circle, boots sunk in the mud, torches flickering even though the sun had not yet set. I walked among them with the kings at my sides, the weight of every loss pressing against my ribs like a second heartbeat.

I stopped at the first frame and pulled the cloak back. The man had been young, barely past his first shift, his hands still calloused from the training yard. I placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke so the entire bailey could hear.

"This one held the line when the Nightthorn warriors broke through the outer tents. He took two blades meant for others. His name was "Garrick’s cousin", and he died protecting what we built here. We stand here and honour him."

I moved to the next, then the next, naming each one and the moment they had stood tall. The pack listened in silence, some heads bowed, others with jaws tight. When I finished, I stepped back and let the wind move through the open space.

"Hear this, they did not die for glory," I finally said. "They died because the east reached for our children and our future. We honor them by remembering their names and by making sure their sacrifice was not wasted. We train harder. We watch closer. We strike before the next raid reaches our walls."

The pack remained silent for a long moment. Then a woman stepped forward from the circle, the same one who had trained beside me for weeks. She placed a small bundle of dried herbs on the first frame and spoke a single word. "Strength." Another followed, then another, each adding a token and a word until the frames were covered in small offerings and the bailey echoed with quiet voices.

I stood with the kings until the last token was placed. Darius rested a hand on my shoulder. Kane stayed close on my left, his presence steady. Rylan stood on my right, his axe lowered but ready. The bond between us moved quiet and deep, carrying the shared grief without words.

"May your souls rest in peace and may you also find peace in the after life, out fallen soldiers." I said while torching the platforms they laid on.

The pack watched and placed their hands on their chest signalling strength and togetherness and kept murmuring "your strength and courage saved us, may your souls find eternal peace."