Alpha's Hunt For Love

Chapter 10. United

Time has a strange way of stretching and tightening around fear. What once felt like ordinary days now moved with deliberate purpose. Weeks slipped into months, and our world slowly reshaped itself into one preparing for war.

The first vision struck without warning.

It happened in the middle of training. One moment, I was correcting a warrior's posture; the next, the earth tilted beneath me. My body froze, my breath strangled in my chest as vision-fire burned behind my eyes. I saw the council—hooded figures in a dim stone chamber—speaking my name like a curse. A knife glinted. Blood stained the floor.

"Malia!"

John caught me before I hit the ground.

The world returned in pieces—John's scent grounding me, his fingers firm around my shoulders, Nox pacing beneath his skin while my wolf whimpered inside me.

"It's starting," I whispered, my voice trembling. "They're not just afraid of us. They want us gone."

Those words changed everything.

From that moment forward, the Thunderstorm Pack did not simply prepare—they transformed. Warriors grew harder. Leaders grew sharper. Even the ground beneath our territory felt charged with purpose.

But the visions didn't stop.

They came again and again, each one ripping through me like lightning, leaving me shaking and gasping for air while John held me together every single time.

Sometimes we were alone in our room, his arms wrapped around me as I clawed at the fabric of his shirt to keep from drowning. Other times we were surrounded by pack members, and he didn't care who watched. He would drop everything, kneel beside me, cradle my face, his voice steady and anchoring.

"Stay with me, love. I'm here. I'm not letting anything happen to you."

And he never did.

The visions were more than horror—they were clues. Faces. Rooms. Conversations spoken in whispers thick with treachery. The council wasn't simply scheming. They were building an army. They wanted to eradicate us—John, me, Thunderstorm Pack, and everyone who stood with us.

So we used my gift as our greatest weapon.

John gathered his Beta, Gamma, and trusted warriors. Each time a vision ended, I described everything—down to the smallest detail. They documented names. Symbols. Meeting locations. Dates. The witch helped stabilize the visions, strengthening me between each one.

Piece by piece, we built a case.

Proof that the council was not righteous. Proof of assassination plots. Proof they had already begun eliminating people loyal to John.

Proof they would not stop until we were dead.

Meanwhile, training intensified.

Every warrior, every omega, every potential fighter trained daily. John personally led the warriors, pushing them beyond their limits. He fought beside them rather than above them, earning not just obedience—but devotion.

"We survive by being stronger than their fear of us," he reminded them.

We learned to endure wolfsbane.

The first trials were brutal. Warriors collapsed, shaking violently, some vomiting, others barely conscious while healers hovered nearby. I hated every second of it, yet I stayed for every session—healing when needed, encouraging when strength wavered.

No one trained harder than the future warriors. No one encouraged louder than the elders. No one complained.

We were no longer a pack.