The morning sun crept through the cracks in the stronghold’s stone walls, spilling faint beams of gold across the hall’s scarred floor. Ethan stood near the center, staring at the mess left from last night’s fight—splintered benches tipped over, dark stains of hunter blood pooling near the hearth, and a lingering tang of iron and rot hanging in the air. His arm still ached where the venom had grazed him, a dull thud under his skin, but the wolf in him had burned most of it away. He rubbed it absently, his jacket stiff with dried blood, feeling the weight of every breath he took.

  Around him, the place was stirring. Sarah knelt by the fire, her small hands carefully handing out chunks of stale bread and a few dented tin cups of water to the other kids. Her braids were messy, strands sticking to her dirt-smudged face, but she moved with a quiet purpose that made Ethan’s chest tighten. She caught his eye and gave him a little nod, like she was saying, I’ve got this. He managed a half-smile back, grateful for her stubborn courage.

  Rhea was over by the entrance, crouched with her device, its screen casting a bluish glow on her sharp features. She tapped it with a frown, muttering something under her breath as she adjusted the settings. Ethan walked over, his boots crunching on bits of debris, and leaned against the wall beside her. “Anything?” he asked, keeping his voice low so the kids wouldn’t overhear.

  She didn’t look up, her fingers still working the screen. “Nothing immediate. The forest’s quiet for now—no drones, no hunters. But that doesn’t mean they’re gone.” She straightened, brushing a strand of auburn hair from her face, and met his gaze. “They’ll be back, Ethan. You know that.”

  “Yeah,” he said, running a hand through his tangled hair. “I know.” His eyes flicked to the scroll tucked inside his jacket, its edges poking against his ribs. “We need to figure out what we’ve got—before they hit us again.”

  Mara was across the hall, dragging one of the hunter corpses toward a pile near the door, her movements brisk but heavy with fatigue. Kael joined her, his scarred hands making quick work of the second body, though he grumbled under his breath the whole time. “Bloody mess,” he muttered, loud enough for Ethan to catch. “You bring these bastards here, Mason, and we’re the ones cleaning up.”

  Ethan didn’t bite back—Kael had a point, even if it stung. “I’ll make it worth it,” he said instead, crossing the room to help. He grabbed the third corpse by its mangled arm, the flesh cold and slick under his grip, and hauled it over. Up close, the thing was even uglier—patchy fur streaked with red, a jaw full of jagged fangs frozen in a snarl. He dropped it with a thud, wiping his hands on his pants.

  Mara straightened, brushing dust off her palms, and looked at him—really looked, her gray eyes searching his face. “This place used to be something,” she said, her voice rough but softer than before. “Back when I was a kid, it was full—thirty, forty of us. Wolves who’d fight tooth and claw for each other. Then the blood clan came. Took my brother, half the pack, left us scrambling in the dirt.” She paused, her fingers brushing a deep scratch on the stone table, a ghost of a memory flickering in her gaze. “If you’re who Eldrin says, you’d better be damn sure you can hold this together.”

  Ethan held her stare, feeling the weight of her words settle on him like a stone. “I lost people too,” he said quietly. “Military turned on me, made me this—whatever I am. I’m not letting that happen to anyone else. Not the kids, not you.”

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  She nodded, slow and deliberate, like she was sizing him up all over again. “Fair enough.”

  Rhea joined them, her device tucked away, replaced by a small metal disc she’d pried off one of the hunters—an etched blood clan sigil glinting in the firelight. “Found this,” she said, tossing it onto the table with a dull clink. “Tracker. They’ve been watching this place longer than we thought.”

  Ethan’s gut twisted. “That’s why they hit so fast after the cave. Eldrin couldn’t stop them all.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Mara said, her tone hardening. “They’re here now. Question is, what’re we doing about it?”

  He pulled the scroll from his jacket, its brittle edges crinkling as he spread it out on the table. The firelight danced over the lunar script, the sketches of wolves and vampires circling that lone figure—him, maybe. Mara leaned in, her breath catching as she traced a line of runes. “This here,” she said, tapping the parchment. “My dad used to talk about it. ‘The blood’s call summons the pack, senses the foe.’ It’s old wolf lore—means you’re more than just teeth and claws, Mason.”

  Ethan frowned, glancing at Rhea. “Senses the foe?”

  She nodded, her silver eyes sharp with curiosity. “Your blood’s got vampire in it, right? Maybe it’s not just summoning wolves—maybe you can feel them too. The hunters.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that—vampire blood running through him felt wrong, like a stain he couldn’t scrub out. But if it helped them survive… “Let’s test it,” he said, gripping the medallion. It warmed under his touch, a steady pulse syncing with his heartbeat. He closed his eyes, letting the wolf rise—not to fight, but to feel. A low growl built in his throat, spilling out into a deep, resonant howl that rolled through the hall and into the forest beyond.

  The air shifted—birds scattered from the trees outside, their wings a frantic flutter against the dawn. Ethan’s senses stretched, sharp and raw, and there it was—a faint tug, like a thread pulling at the edge of his mind. Something cold, something rotten, lurking just beyond the tree line. “They’re out there,” he said, opening his eyes, his voice rough. “Not close, but watching.”

  Rhea’s hand brushed his arm, steadying him. “That’s new,” she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Useful, too.”

  Mara’s expression softened, a spark of something like hope flickering in her gray eyes. “You’re the real deal, aren’t you?”

  “Trying to be,” Ethan said, shoving the scroll back into his jacket. “But we’ve got work to do. This place needs fixing—defenses, supplies. And we need more wolves.”

  Across the hall, Kael and the newcomers—Vara, Torin, and Jace—were sorting through a pile of gear near the hearth. Vara, broad and solid, hefted a cracked spear with a grunt, her voice carrying over. “Used to lead a crew up north—ten strong, till the blood clan picked us off. I’m here ‘cause you’ve got fight in you, Mason.”

  Torin, lean and quick, leaned against a wall, his cold eyes flicking over the group. “I’ve been running solo,” he said, voice clipped. “Don’t trust packs—too easy to break. Prove me wrong.”

  Jace, the wiry kid, stayed silent, his fingers working a dagger’s edge, sharpening it with slow, deliberate strokes. Ethan caught his eye, and the kid gave a small nod—quiet, but in.

  “Kael, Vara, patch up the entrance,” Ethan said, his tone firm but not harsh. “Torin, Jace, scout the perimeter—quietly. Mara, Lira, dig through whatever’s left for supplies. Rhea, get the kids settled somewhere safe.”

  They moved without much grumbling, a rough rhythm starting to form. Rhea guided the children to a corner piled with old furs, her voice soft as she handed out blankets. Sarah lingered, tugging Ethan’s sleeve. “You’re not leaving us, right?” she asked, her voice small but steady.

  “Not a chance,” he said, crouching to her level, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “We’re sticking together—all of us.”

  She smiled, faint but real, and scampered off to help. Ethan straightened, catching Rhea’s eye across the hall. She gave him a nod, a quiet trust in her gaze that steadied him more than he’d admit.

  He climbed to the stronghold’s lookout, a rough ledge jutting over the forest. The dawn stretched out below, mist curling through the trees like smoke, hiding whatever lurked beyond. His hand tightened on the medallion, the faint tug of the hunters still there, a cold itch at the back of his mind. The scroll’s words—union or chaos—rolled through his head, heavy and unclear. He wasn’t sure what he was yet, but he knew one thing: he’d fight for this—for Sarah, for Rhea, for the wolves gathering around him. They weren’t just running anymore. They were building something.

  [To be continued…]