Knotted By The Three Feral Alphas

The fight begun.

Steel met steel in a frenzy of sparks and shouts. A northerner leaped the gap and crashed into me. We grappled on the edge, his hands around my throat. I drove my knee up hard and shoved him backward into empty air. His scream cut off against the rocks far below.

Darius fought like a machine beside me, never wasting a movement. Kane worked the flanks, picking off anyone who gained footing. Rylan held the center of the bridge, axe rising and falling in brutal rhythm that cleared space faster than they could fill it.

The bridge groaned under the weight of bodies and desperation. We gave ground inch by inch, making them earn every foot. Arrows whistled from both sides. Men fell into the black void between us. The sound of their impacts echoed up the gorge walls.

Hours blurred. My arms burned. Blood ran into my eyes from a cut on my forehead. Through it all the bond pulsed strong, feeding me their endurance when mine faltered. I tasted Darius’s cold fury, Kane’s quiet calculation, Rylan’s fierce joy in the destruction.

When the witch-blood woman finally appeared at the far end, urging her people forward with raised hands and crackling power, I felt the shift.

She hurled raw force across the gap. Invisible pressure slammed into our lines. Men staggered. I braced against it, teeth clenched, and pushed back through sheer will and the bond’s strength.

Darius roared and charged forward with a handful of our best. They met her guards in a clash that lit the night with steel and fury. I followed, cutting down anyone in my path. The woman saw me coming and smiled that same sharp smile from her tent.

"You delay the inevitable," she called over the din. "The alignment comes. Your children’s blood calls to me even now."

I didn’t waste breath on words. I drove straight at her. Our blades met with a shock that vibrated through my bones. She was good. Fast and fueled by something older than muscle. We traded blows on the narrow bridge while the gorge waited below like an open mouth.

A lucky strike from her opened my side. Pain flared hot. I answered by slashing across her thigh. She staggered. Darius appeared at my shoulder and pressed the advantage. For one bright moment I thought we had her.

Then her remaining power flared wild. A blast threw me back. I hit the bridge hard, breath knocked out. Darius took the worst of it, slamming into the railing. Wood cracked. He caught himself at the last second, hanging over the drop. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

I scrambled up and grabbed his arm, hauling him back to safety. The witch-blood used the moment to retreat behind her guards, blood trailing from her leg. Her forces fell back with her, dragging their wounded, leaving dozens more in the gorge.

We stood on the battered bridge as silence returned, breathing like survivors. My side bled freely. Darius had a nasty gash across his chest. Kane and Rylan limped over, both battered but whole.

"She’s hurt," I said, pressing a hand to my wound. "And scared. That’s new."

Rylan laughed once, short and raw. "Good. Let her taste it."

We pulled back to tend injuries and reinforce what remained of the bridge. The pack moved with exhausted determination. We had held. More than held. We had driven her back again.

As healers worked on my side, I sat against a rock and pulled out the little carved wolf. It felt warmer than the night air around us. Two weeks had become thirteen days. The clock kept ticking.

Darius knelt in front of me, his own wounds already bandaged. "We rest here until dawn, then push for better ground. Closer to home."

I nodded. The kings gathered close while the pack settled into defensive positions. Their presence pushed back the pain and the fear. We had hurt her tonight. Made her bleed in front of her own people.

But she still lived. And the alignment drew nearer with every breath.

I closed my fist around the wooden wolf and looked north into the darkness.

We had thirteen days and we would make them count.

I slipped the carved wolf back into my pocket and stood. The pack was already breaking camp around us, moving with the quiet urgency of men who had learned the price of delay.

I mounted my mare and took the lead again, thighs protesting the long hours in the saddle. Pain from my stitched side flared with every stride, but I kept my face blank. Leaders didn’t show weakness when the enemy still breathed.

We traveled faster than before, cutting across ridges instead of following safer valleys. Scouts ranged wide, reporting back every few hours. The northern force had slowed but not stopped. Their leader pushed them mercilessly despite her own wound. She wanted my children more than she feared death.

By midday we crossed into territory I knew by heart. The trees grew thicker here, old sentinels that had sheltered our people for generations.

I called a brief halt near a clear stream so the horses could drink and the worst of the wounded could be checked again.

Darius stayed mounted beside me, scanning the treeline. Kane refilled waterskins downstream. Rylan climbed a nearby outcrop to watch our backtrail.

A young fighter approached me while I stretched my cramped leg. His arm hung in a sling, face pale but eyes steady. "My queen, the men are saying the witch-woman bleeds just like us now. That changes things."

"It does," I replied. "She bleeds. She fears. Keep that in their heads when the next fight comes."

He nodded and moved on. Small words, but they traveled through the ranks like sparks on dry grass. I watched the pack drink, eat cold rations, and check weapons.

Their exhaustion showed in slumped shoulders and hollow cheeks, yet no one lagged. They had seen the bridge run red. They understood what waited if we failed.

Darius nudged his horse closer. "You’re pushing hard. Even for you."

"Because every mile closer to Frostfang is another mile she has to cover with a bad leg and a smaller army." I met his gaze. "I won’t let her get within sight of the walls."

Kane returned with full skins and handed me one first. The water tasted of stone and cold earth. Rylan dropped down from his perch a moment later, boots thudding softly.

"They’re six hours behind and losing more every league," he reported. "Some of their own are turning on stragglers now. Discipline is rotting."

Good. Let it rot faster.

We pressed on through the afternoon. The land dipped into a wide basin dotted with old farms long abandoned. We passed one burned-out shell and I felt the pack’s mood darken. These were our people’s lands once. The north wanted to turn all of it into graves.

As shadows lengthened we reached the crest of the final major ridge before the long descent toward Frostfang. I reined in and looked back the way we had come. Distant smoke rose in thin columns. Their campfires. Still coming.

"We make stand here tomorrow if they push hard tonight," I decided. "High ground. Clear sightlines. They’ll have to climb to reach us."

The kings approved with grim nods. We set camp in the lee of the ridge, using the natural bowl for shelter while posting sentries along the crest.

I walked the perimeter twice before allowing myself to sit. My body screamed for rest, but my mind kept circling back to the nursery at home. Lila standing guard. Thorne and Elara’s coordinated steps. The way they all reached for me when I left.

Darius found me leaning against a pine, staring at nothing. He didn’t speak at first. Just pulled me against his chest and held on. Kane and Rylan joined silently, forming a tight circle that blocked the wind and the world.

"I keep counting the days," I admitted against Darius’s cloak. "Thirteen felt like nothing when we started. Now every hour feels stolen."

Kane’s scarred hand found mine. "Then we steal more. We make her waste hers."

Rylan’s voice came rough. "Those three little ones are going to grow up hearing how their parents painted the north red to keep them safe. That’s the story I want them to know."

Their words sank into me, warming places the fire couldn’t reach. We stayed like that until the watch changed, drawing strength from each other the way we had since the beginning. The bond thrummed steady and deep, carrying love sharp enough to cut and hope stubborn enough to endure.

Sleep came in snatches wrapped in their warmth. I woke once to find Lila’s carved wolf had fallen from my pocket onto the ground. I picked it up and held it tight, imagining small hands waiting for mine back home.

Dawn brought movement on the ridge below. Their scouts had found us. I rose with the pack and prepared for whatever the day would demand.

The witch-blood heir was driving her broken army forward with desperation now. We would meet that desperation with cold calculation.