34. August

34

August

Raol’s scent was pungent and nauseating in the air, and I followed it through the dense forest. The moon hung high overhead, lending silvery light to the trail he’d left, but it didn’t matter—I could track him in complete darkness if necessary.

My wolf was restless beneath my skin, aching to let loose and rip the bastard apart, but I kept it in check—for now.

The smell led me to a small clearing, and I froze, crouching low behind a thick tree. Carlisle pack members were camped out, the orange glow of their fire illuminating their faces. There were at least a dozen of them, maybe more, all armed and relaxed as if they weren’t harboring a child stolen from her family. From me.

A low growl bubbled in my chest, and I forced it back. I couldn’t afford to lose control. My gaze swept over the camp until it landed on Raol. He was seated near the fire, talking with one of his men, his body language casual.

The Carlisle pack had always been fractured, its loyalties tied not to tradition or honor but to fear and raw ambition. Raol’s rise to power wasn’t built on respect; it was rooted in manipulation and brutality. He offered his followers what they craved most—the illusion of strength, the promise of power in his shadow.

Years ago, his pack was on the brink of collapse. A series of failed alliances had left them vulnerable, their territory shrinking as other packs closed in like vultures. Raol had changed that. Ruthless and cunning, he took over by claw and by blood. He killed his own father in a challenge for dominance, a move that cemented his control but shattered whatever moral framework his pack might have had.

He promised those who knelt to him safety, land, and a piece of the power he wielded. He trained them not as wolves but as weapons, brutal and unflinching. Those who defied him were silenced swiftly and publicly, their bodies left as warnings. Over time, what remained of the Carlisle pack was little more than a cult of fear, Raol at its center, commanding their loyalty with a mix of calculated rewards and relentless punishment.

But Elisabed had defied all that. She had stood up to him and shaken the very foundation his reign of terror was built on. For that alone, she was better than us all.

She was better than the pack here now, scattered across this camp, their blind allegiance still intact. Each of them was a testament to the monster Raol had become—and the monster I was prepared to face.

I crouched lower in the underbrush, scanning the scene with a sharp eye. Raol sat with his back to the fire, his men lounging nearby. They weren’t relaxed, though. I could see it in the way their shoulders remained tense, their gazes flickering toward the shadows. Even among his own, Raol inspired unease.

It wasn’t hard to understand why some might follow him. To wolves who knew nothing but chaos, Raol offered order. To those who feared weakness, he gave them a sense of belonging, no matter how twisted it was. And for those willing to do anything for survival, Raol promised just enough power to keep them crawling back.

But none of it mattered now. Not to me.

My chest ached as I caught sight of Mily, her small form huddled by a tree at the edge of the camp. Even from this distance, I could see the lines of her trembling shoulders. She wasn’t crying—she’d probably learned the hard way that tears only made her more of a target—but the fear radiating off her was suffocating.

She looked like Elisabed had that first night, standing before the council, her chin held high despite the weight crushing her. They shared that same fire, that same resilience. And I’d failed them both.

The thought cut deeper than any blade could. It gnawed at me, every beat of my heart a reminder of how much I’d let her down. Elisabed was my omega— our omega—and I had hurt her in ways I couldn’t take back. I’d put my hands on her, not in love but in anger, and no matter how much I wanted to justify it, there was no excusing it. She deserved better than me. Better than any of us.

But she deserved her sister more. And if it cost me my life to bring Mily back, so be it. At least this way, I could give Elisabed something good before I disappeared from her life forever.

I moved silently, my body low to the ground as I edged closer to the camp. My wolf snarled within me, eager for blood, but I held it back. There was no room for recklessness.

“We’ve got what we need,” Raol addressed his men with smug confidence. “They’ll come for her, and when they do, we’ll remind them who holds the real power.”

There was a ripple of agreement through the camp, but it seemed weak and somehow forced—even his men weren’t immune to the doubts that clung to him like a stench. But it didn’t matter. They’d follow him anyway because that’s what fear did—it made you obedient.

I bared my teeth, the taste of rage hot and bitter on my tongue. I wanted nothing more than to tear that smug expression off his face, to make him pay for every ounce of pain he’d caused. And I would.

I crept closer, the firelight catching on Raol’s profile. He was grinning, his sharp features illuminated in the flickering glow. He didn’t deserve to smile. Not after what he’d done. Not after everything he’d taken.

I had no illusions about how this would end. I was one wolf against many. But if I could take him down, if I could rip the heart out of his operation, it would be enough. Marshall and Finn could protect Elisabed. They could give her pups, give her the life I never could.

A life without me.

The thought should’ve scared me, but it didn’t. It felt right, like penance.

I flexed my claws, my muscles coiled and ready. My wolf surged forward, its hunger for vengeance matching my own. The time for thinking was over.

I stepped into the clearing, my eyes locking on Raol.

“Let’s finish this.”