Dawn came slowly over the clearing.
The last of the black residue had faded into the soil, leaving only scorched patches of grass and the sharp, metallic scent of spent silver.
The pack moved with the quiet efficiency of people who had done this kind of work before.
Wounds were cleaned with water from canteens and bound with whatever cloth could be spared.
No one spoke more than necessary.
The full moon still hung in the paling sky, but its pull had begun to ease with the first real light.
Derek kept Allison close.
His ribs were scored deep enough that every breath had to be measured, yet he refused to sit until the others had been accounted for.
Mara’s cut had already closed to a pink line.
Thorn favored one leg.
Cal and Rian were bruised but upright.
Elias and Sable moved among them, checking, counting, confirming that every member who had entered the fight was still breathing.
Allison’s hands still smelled of the icy fluid that had poured over the silver knife.
She wiped them on the grass until the scent faded, then stayed where Derek had placed her within arm’s reach, visible, safe.
When the immediate work was done, Derek finally allowed himself to sink onto the fallen log at the edge of the clearing.
Allison sat beside him.
In the growing light, the gold had left his eyes, leaving them dark and exhausted.
“It’s gone,” she said quietly. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
“For now.” He touched two fingers to the deepest of the claw marks on his side and winced.
“The Wraith doesn’t die the way we do.
It can be broken, scattered, driven so far under that it takes years to gather itself again.
We bought time.
Maybe a decade.
Maybe longer if the territory stays strong.”
Mara approached and crouched in front of him, examining the wounds with clinical detachment.
“You need stitches.
And rest.
The cabin’s closest.”
“I know.” Derek looked at the rest of the pack.
“Anyone who can walk helps the ones who can’t.
We leave nothing behind that the town could find.
Elias, you and Sable take the northern approach and make sure the tracks are obscured.
The rest of you with me.” Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
No one argued.
The hierarchy held even in the aftermath of blood and moonlight.
The walk back to the cabin was slower than the walk out.
Derek refused help until the last stretch, when the blood loss and the fading adrenaline finally caught up with him.
Cal and Rian took enough of his weight to keep him moving.
Allison walked on his other side, the silver knife still in its sheath, the jacket Mara had given her now stained with grass and dark fluid.
Inside the cabin, the atmosphere shifted from battlefield to recovery.
Sable boiled water.
Thorn produced a small medical kit from a high shelf.
Mara ordered Derek onto the couch and began cleaning the claw marks with a thoroughness that made him swear under his breath.
Allison stayed nearby, handing over clean cloth when asked, watching the efficient way the pack cared for its own.
When the worst of the wounds had been stitched and bandaged, Derek caught her wrist and tugged her down to sit on the edge of the couch beside him.
“You’re still here,” he said, voice rough with exhaustion.
“I told you I wasn’t going anywhere.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
Around them, the others settled into chairs or against walls, the sharp edge of combat finally draining away.
For the first time since Allison had arrived in Blackpine Ridge, the silence in the room felt like rest instead of waiting.