Always And Forever | ENG ✓

Chapter Twenty-Four: Scars of the Night

The battle was over, but the echoes of it lingered in every corner of the pack house. The scent of blood and sweat still clung to our skin, and the bruises and cuts we bore were a physical reminder of how close we had come to losing everything.

In the main hall, the injured were tended to, their wounds carefully cleaned and wrapped by the medics. The younger wolves who had stayed behind during the fight moved quickly, bringing supplies and offering quiet encouragement. Despite the exhaustion etched into every face, there was a sense of pride that couldn't be ignored. We had faced a nightmare, and we had survived.

I stood near the hearth, watching as the pack worked together with a unity I hadn't seen before. For so long, there had been doubt-about my leadership, about our strength-but tonight, something had shifted. The pack wasn't just following me anymore. They believed in me.

Dean approached from across the room, his expression unreadable but his steps purposeful. His own wounds had been hastily bandaged, but he didn't seem to notice the blood that had seeped through the gauze on his arm.

"You should be sitting," I said, my tone softer than usual.

Dean smirked faintly, shaking his head. "I'll rest when you do."

I huffed out a laugh, the sound surprising even me. "That's not likely to happen anytime soon."

He stopped beside me, his gaze sweeping over the room. "They look to you now," he said after a moment, his voice quiet but steady. "Not out of obligation. Out of respect."

His words caught me off guard, and I glanced at him, unsure how to respond. "It's not just me," I said finally. "We wouldn't have made it without all of us working together."

"That's true," Dean admitted. "But it's your strength that brought them together. I see that now."

There was a heaviness to his tone, a weight of regret that I recognized all too well. It wasn't the time for a deeper conversation-not yet-but his words meant more to me than I could express.

As the night wore on, the pack began to settle. The injured were moved to beds, and the younger wolves kept watch at the windows, their eyes sharp and alert. I made my rounds through the house, checking on each member of the pack. Their trust in me was palpable, and it filled me with a quiet determination to ensure that trust was never misplaced.

When I finally returned to the strategy room, Ace was waiting for me. He sat at the table, a half-empty cup of water in his hand, his face drawn with exhaustion.

"You should rest," I said, echoing the words I had spoken to Dean.

"So should you," Ace replied, raising an eyebrow at me.

I sat across from him, letting out a long sigh as I leaned back in the chair. The weight of the day pressed heavily on my shoulders, but the fire in Ace's gaze told me there was no time to dwell on it.

"What's the status?" I asked.

Ace set the cup down, folding his arms on the table. "We held the line, but the cost was high. Four critically injured, and a dozen more nursing minor wounds. We're holding up, but we can't sustain another attack like that."

My stomach tightened at his words. The pack was strong, but we were still vulnerable. "And the fortress?"

Ace's expression darkened. "The scouts reported back just before dawn. The creatures are retreating, but the figure... it's still out there. We don't know where, but it's regrouping. Preparing for something bigger."

I nodded, my mind already racing with possibilities. "We'll need to fortify our defenses. Call in the outer scouts and pull them closer to the house. If the figure is planning something, we need to be ready."

"I've already started," Ace said, his tone reassuring. "But we're running on borrowed time. Whatever's coming, we need to find a way to stop it before it finds us."

I stared at the map spread across the table, the lines and markers blurring as exhaustion threatened to overtake me. But I couldn't stop. Not now.

"We'll find a way," I said firmly, more to myself than to Ace.

The sun was just beginning to rise as I stepped out onto the front steps of the pack house. The forest was quiet, the air crisp and cool, but there was no peace in the stillness. The battle had scarred the land, and the weight of what was to come pressed down on me like a storm waiting to break.

Dean joined me a few minutes later, his steps slow but deliberate. He stood beside me, his arms crossed as he stared out at the horizon.

"What now?" he asked, his voice low but steady.

I didn't answer immediately, my gaze fixed on the line of trees in the distance. "We prepare," I said finally. "We get stronger. We find out what they're planning, and we stop it before it can destroy us."

Dean nodded, his expression hardening. "And if it's more than we can handle?"

I turned to him, my voice unwavering. "Then we fight anyway."

For a long moment, he didn't say anything, but when he looked at me, there was a spark of something I hadn't seen in him before. Belief.

"We'll be ready," he said, his tone filled with quiet determination.

I nodded, the weight of his words settling over me. The battle wasn't over. The war was just beginning.

And we would face it. Together.