The Silver Wolf

Chapter Twelve

After a few hours, Talon and Enzo stood within the grand hall of the Crimson Fang pack, surrounded by glittering lights, echoing music, and the thick press of wolves gathered for the mating ball the Luna herself had organized.

The space was lavish—almost aggressively so. Crystal chandeliers hung from high stone ceilings, reflecting firelight and moonlight in fractured patterns across polished floors. Long banners bearing the Crimson Fang crest lined the walls, and the air was heavy with mingling scents: excitement, desire, ambition, desperation.

Talon felt none of it.

His posture was rigid, shoulders squared, presence cold and immovable amid the swirl of movement around him. Wolves instinctively gave him space—an unconscious reaction to the Alpha King’s restrained power. Conversations faltered as he passed. Laughter dimmed. Eyes followed him with awe, fear, and calculated interest.

And through it all, Luna Hazel hovered. She had been trying to draw his attention from the moment they entered the hall—laughing too loudly near him, positioning herself just within his line of sight, wearing a gown that seemed designed less for dignity and more for provocation.

The fabric clung to her curves, cut dangerously low, slit high along her thigh, shimmering like it was begging to be noticed.

Fenrir snarled at the sight of her.

Enzo leaned slightly closer to Talon, not speaking aloud.

'Alpha,' Enzo mind-linked, his tone dry and edged with clear irritation. 'With the look on your face right now, no one would dare approach you. You look like you’re deciding who to kill first.'

'And that Luna,' Enzo added, disgust bleeding through the bond, is doing herself no favors. 'She’s practically naked. I can’t tell if she’s trying to seduce you or challenge your patience. How can her Alpha tolerate her is beyond me.'

Talon didn’t look at Hazel again.

'My mate is not in this ball,' he replied quietly through the link.

Enzo stiffened. 'Not here? You were sure—'

'I was,' Talon cut in. 'I smelled her earlier when we arrived. Faint. Elusive. But it was her. I’m certain.' His jaw tightened. 'But now… nothing. I can’t smell her at all.'

Inside him, Fenrir stirred violently.

'Mate not here,' Fenrir growled, his voice sharp with frustration. 'You said she would be here. She is not.'

The wolf’s agitation surged, pounding against Talon’s skull.

'Let me out,' Fenrir demanded. 'We need to find mate. Need to protect mate.'

Talon’s fingers curled slowly at his side as Fenrir’s presence expanded, claws scraping, instincts screaming.

'Mate!' Fenrir howled inside him. 'Where are you?!'

The sound echoed through Talon’s mind, raw and desperate. Pain flared behind his eyes. Talon lifted a hand and pressed his fingers to his forehead, massaging his reminding temples, forcing control through sheer will.

'Enough,' Talon commanded silently. ‘You will not lose control here.’

Fenrir paced like a caged beast, his rage coiling tighter with every passing second.

'She is in danger,' Fenrir insisted. 'You feel it. I feel it. Every second we waste—'

Talon exhaled slowly through his nose, grounding himself as the music swelled around them, as laughter rang out too loudly, as Hazel moved closer once more, her scent thick with manufactured allure.

Enzo watched Talon carefully, reading the tension etched into his Alpha’s stillness.

'Maybe,' Enzo offered cautiously through the link, 'we can check with the Luna. See if all available females are present. If someone is missing—'

He never finished the thought.

The first alarm horn shattered the music.

A deep, blaring sound ripped through the hall, vibrating through stone and bone alike.

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Then chaos erupted.

Wolves gasped. Glass shattered. The music died mid-note as panic surged like a living thing through the crowd. Guards rushed toward exits, voices overlapping, commands shouted.

“Rogues!” a pack member screamed, bursting into the hall, eyes wide with terror. “Rogues are coming!”

Fear slammed into the room.

Fenrir went deathly still.

Then—

'Rogues,' he snarled, fury igniting instantly. 'And mate is missing.'

Talon’s hand dropped from his forehead as his eyes hardened, Alpha instincts snapping into place.

'Mate!' Fenrir roared the instant the alarm horn split the air, its sound echoing through the pack grounds like a warning from the gods themselves. 'We need to look for our mate now!'

The cry of wolves followed, panicked and sharp, rising from the southern end of the territory. The scent of blood, fear, and unfamiliar wolves bled into the wind, curling around Talon’s senses. He is stiffened.

'No,' Talon said firmly, his voice calm but edged with iron. 'We eliminate the threat first. Once the danger is gone, our mate will be safe.'

Fenrir snarled inside him, a violent surge of instinct slamming against Talon’s control. 'You are wrong! Danger is already here. I can feel it. Mate is close. Mate is vulnerable. We protect first—hunt later!'

Talon clenched his jaw, boots planted solidly against the stone floor. He felt Fenrir pacing inside his mind, claws scraping against his restraint, desperate and furious.

'We cannot abandon the pack during an active attack,' He replied. 'Chaos attracts bloodshed. And bloodshed attracts rogues. If we end this quickly, we secure everyone, including her.'

Fenrir growled but did not retreat. 'If she is harmed because we hesitated—'

'She won’t be,' Talon cut in sharply. 'Not while I breathe.'

The doors to the hall stood open, warriors rushing past in disciplined lines. Talon’s gaze shifted to Alpha Asher, who stood still.

Watching.

Not issuing commands.

Not shifting.

Not moving toward the fight.

Talon’s eyes narrowed.

“Alpha Asher,” Talon said, his voice deceptively even. “Which part of your territory is under attack?”

Asher straightened slightly under the Alpha King’s attention.

“The southern border,” he answered. “But there’s no need for us to go there.”

Talon’s brow furrowed.

“My warriors are already mobilized,” Asher continued quickly. “They will intercept the rogues. If the enemy breaks through them, my deltas will take over. Then—if needed, we will step in.”

Silence followed his words.

A dangerous, heavy silence.

Talon stared at him, disbelief flashing across his expression before hardening into something far colder.

An alpha who did not lead his warriors into battle.

An alpha who waited while others bled.

An alpha who hid behind ranks and titles.

'Coward!' Fenrir howled, fury shaking Talon’s core. 'He dares call himself alpha? He lets others die while he waits? Mate is not safe here—not with this weak, useless leader! Let me out. I will tear him apart and take our mate far from this place!'

Talon’s fists curled slowly at his sides, and he stepped forward.

The air changed.

His alpha aura surged outward—ancient, crushing, undeniable. Power rolled through the hall like a living force, slamming into every wolf present. Warriors froze mid-stride. Deltas dropped to one knee without realizing why.

Asher’s breath hitched, and his knees buckled.

“That,” Talon said, his voice resonating with command and judgment, “is not how this will proceed.”

“You will lead me to the site of the attack.” He stopped directly in front of Asher, towering over him, eyes glowing faintly with restrained dominance. “We will intercept the rogues at the southern border. We will eliminate the threat swiftly and decisively.”

Fenrir’s voice rumbled with savage approval. 'As alphas should.'

Talon leaned in slightly, his gaze piercing. “An alpha does not wait behind his warriors. He does not gamble with his pack’s blood. He stands at the front. He protects his land. His people. His future.”

Asher trembled visibly now, sweat beading at his temples as Talon’s presence crushed down on him like a mountain.

“Yes,” Asher whispered, voice shaking. “Yes… Alpha King.”

He lowered his head fully in submission.

“Yes, Alpha King,” Asher said again, louder this time, so all could hear.

Talon turned toward the exit, already moving.

“Mobilize,” Talon commanded. “Now.”

Fenrir surged forward eagerly within him, teeth bared, senses sharpened.

'Find mate after,' Fenrir growled. 'But if she is even scratched—'

'They won’t get that far,' Talon said grimly as he strode into the night, the howls of warriors rising behind him.

Because whether by claw or crown, no one threatened his mate.

'I can smell mate,' Fenrir growled, his voice vibrating through Talon’s bones. 'Mate is here. Mate is in danger.'

Talon’s breath hitched as Fenrir surged forward, forcing their legs to move faster, harder. Every instinct screamed toward the battlefield, toward the metallic tang of blood and the unmistakable pull that burned in his chest.

Fenrir’s teeth bared instinctively, lips pulling back in a silent snarl as their stride lengthened. Trees blurred past them. The ground shook beneath their feet as they tore through the forest like a living storm.

'Slow down,' Talon warned, though his own heart pounded in rhythm with Fenrir’s urgency.

'No,' Fenrir snarled. 'She is fighting. She should not be fighting alone.'

The clash of steel and claws reached them before the clearing did—snarls, screams, the sickening sound of bone breaking. Then they broke through the tree line.

And Talon froze.

So did Fenrir.

The battlefield lay before them, but not as expected.

At the center of the c*****e stood a single woman.

She was human—fully human in form. No fur. No claws. No glowing eyes. Just swords in both of her hands. Yet she stood unmoving, unbroken, her stance grounded and unyielding, as if the earth itself bent to her will. Blood stained the ground at her feet—not hers, but that of the rogues sprawled around her.

Behind her stood wolves—pack members—injured, exhausted, alive only because she stood between them and death.

Fenrir’s breath caught.

'There.' His voice dropped to a reverent growl. 'Mate.'