Page 83 of Taken By The Wolves
What will they be prepared to do for Ahya and the power she may hold?
***
The crunch of tires on gravel rolls through the quiet like distant thunder as the first convoy of bear trucks pulls into the lumberyard, their headlights flashing between rows of stacked timber and aging machinery. The sight of their arrival shifts the mood—dozens of hulking men stepping out of their vehicles with the calm authority of seasoned fighters who understand the cost of battle and are willing to pay it.
Hunter steps from the cab of the lead truck, followed by Evan and Robert, their presence solid and grounding. Behind them, more bear shifters unload crates, unroll tents and mark territory with the unspoken synchronicity of thosewho’ve battled and survived together. They carry weapons and armor, but it’s the quiet way they move that holds weight.
There’s a tension in the air that buzzes against my skin.
The yard springs to life with shifters humming with purpose. Bears and wolves move side by side, staking perimeter posts, erecting shelters, unloading tools and supplies. No one talks about the strangeness of it. We’ve moved beyond disbelief and into survival.
When I return to the cabin, Scarlet sits in the doorway with Ahya in her lap. The girl nibbles banana slices while her wide, watchful eyes scan the growing camp. She looks so small, but already the earth tilts around her.
Scarlet glances up at me, her mouth pressed into a tight line that tells me more than any words ever could.
“You think Gregory’s going to come to us?” Reed asks, approaching.
“We want him to come. We want him to know our power.”
Before Reed can reply, the low hum of more engines draws our attention to the road again, and I know immediately that the wolves have arrived. My father rides at the front, flanked by Chris and Macon. Their convoy rolls to a stop at the far edge of the yard, every eye trained on the unfamiliar alliance before them. The scent of our old pack hits. There’s a moment of stillness, brittle and electric, until my father steps out and approaches, taking deliberate strides. I meet him halfway, flanked by Reed and Finn, and without hesitation, my father extends his hand.
I clasp it.
One by one, the other alphas follow, bears approaching to make a pact and a promise, that in this yard, on this day,we are not fractured. We’re many. We’re united.
“We need to send scouts,” my father says.
“Bears and wolves together,” Hunter agrees. “Mix the teams. Let them cover each other's blind spots. Learn to trust each other.”
I nod, and we dispatch the fastest runners. As they disappear into the trees, we talk about strategy. The wind shifts as the sun dips behind the treetops, and the air stirs as Cami approaches, cloaked in ash gray, moving silently through the makeshift camp with the old bear mystic at her side. They move with gravity, drawn toward Scarlet and Ahya like iron filings to a lodestone.
They find their way to Scarlet’s side, where she sits watching the gathering with the wariness of a mother bird with a single precious egg in her nest. The mystics kneel beside her without ceremony, their bodies bending like old branches, their attention locked on the child who laughs as she claps her hands and shifts, not once, buttwice, first into a bear cub with thick fur and black paws, then into her human form again, and finally, with a glimmer of silver light, into a tiny gray wolf.
A hush falls across the lumberyard.
I watch as hardened warriors, bear and wolf alike, turn to look with wonder and awe.
“She’s already growing in strength and control,” Cami says softly, her voice carrying power despite its low volume.
The bear mystic’s eyes never leave Ahya. “She walks the line between bloods as a guide.”
“Or a weapon?” Scarlet whispers. I wince, but the mystics do not chastise her, and the rest of the gathering group are too busy to take in her warning.
***
The scouts return faster than expected. Two wolves and a bear sprint into the clearing, sweat shining on their chests, faces grim and hollow eyed as they dress hastily.
They cross the yard quickly, heading straight for the cluster of alphas near the center.
“Gregory’s gathering,” one of them reports, voice low but urgent. “They’re not hiding. He wants this fight. Sixty, maybe more.”
“Numbers we expected,” Hunter says. “But?”
The scout hesitates, glancing up. “There’s something else. Something—
“What?” I bark. “Spit it out.”
“We weren’t sure at first,” the scout says. “But then weheardit. Something massive. The sound of it…” The scout swallows, his Adam’s apple shifting. His head lifts, eyes wide and fearful as he scans the sky above us.
