DARIUS’S POV
I slammed my fist on the wooden table so hard that the maps scattered across it jumped.
"This is our chance!" I shouted at the circle of elders sitting around me. "The Fenrir heir is here, right in our territory. We'll never get another opportunity like this."
Elder Morrison shook his white head slowly. "Alpha Darius, you're talking about declaring war on the most powerful pack in existence."
"I'm talking about preventing a prophecy that will enslave us all!" I shot back.
"The prophecy speaks of unity, not slavery," Elder Jona said quietly.
"Same thing!" I growled. "If we bow down to the Fenrir, we become their slaves. Our pack, our traditions, our freedom—all gone."
Elder Morrison leaned forward in his chair. "And if we attack them and fail? What happens to our pack then?"
"We won't fail," I said firmly. "Not if we plan this right."
"Darius," Elder Maxwell spoke up, "you're talking about attacking the Fenrir Prince himself. Do you have any idea how many warriors he has protecting him?"
"I saw them," I replied. "Maybe fifty fighters. We can match that."
"Fifty of the best trained warriors in the world," Elder Morrison corrected. "These aren't ordinary pack fighters, boy. These are Fenrir elites. Each one of them is worth ten of our warriors."
I started pacing around the room. These old fools were too scared to see the bigger picture.
"So what are you saying?" I demanded. "We should just roll over and accept our fate? Let the Fenrir take control of everything we've built?"
"We're saying it would be impossible to attack the Fenrir pack without dying," Elder Jona said bluntly. "All of us. Our entire bloodline would be wiped out."
"Not if we do it smart," I argued. "Not if we use every advantage we have."
"What advantages?" Elder Maxwell asked. "We're outnumbered and outmatched."
I stopped pacing and looked directly at them. "We have something they don't expect."
"Which is?" Elder Morrison prompted.
"We have a healer in the dungeon," I said with a cold smile. "We will bring her."
The elders exchanged confused glances.
"The slave girl?" Elder Jona asked. "What good will she do against Fenrir warriors?"
"Think about it," I explained. "If our fighters get injured during the attack, she can heal them instantly. They can keep fighting while the Fenrir warriors stay wounded. It's the perfect advantage."
"That's assuming her healing powers actually work in combat," Elder Morrison said doubtfully.
"I saw it with my own eyes," I insisted. "She healed my sword wound with just a touch. The cut disappeared completely."
"Even so," Elder Maxwell said, "one healer won't turn the tide against fifty elite warriors."
"It's not just about the warriors," I continued. "It's about sending a message. If we kill the Fenrir heir here, in our territory, every other pack will know that the Fenrir can be beaten."
"Or they'll know that we declared war on the most dangerous family in existence," Elder Jona muttered.
"Look," I said, trying to keep my voice calm, "I know this is risky. But the alternative is worse. The prophecy says that when the Fenrir heir comes of age, all packs will unite under his rule. That means we lose everything."
"Maybe uniting wouldn't be so bad," Elder Morrison suggested. "Maybe the Fenrir could bring peace—"
"Peace through submission!" I interrupted. "Peace through giving up our independence!"
"The old bloodlines have always ruled," Elder Thomas said quietly. "Perhaps it's time to accept that."
"Never," I snarled. "I won't bow down to anyone. And neither should this pack."
"Your father would disagree," Elder Morrison said.
"My father is weak," I replied coldly. "He's too old and too scared to do what needs to be done. That's why I'm making this decision."
"Without his approval?" Elder Jona asked.
"I don't need his approval. I'm the Alpha Prince. This pack's future is my responsibility."
The elders sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment.
"How exactly do you plan to get close enough to kill him?" Elder Maxwell finally asked.
"We invite him to a feast," I said. "A celebration of his arrival. We make it seem like we're honoring him."
"And then?" Elder Morrison prompted.
"And then we poison his food," I said simply. "Quick, clean, untraceable."
"The Fenrir aren't stupid, Darius," Elder Jona warned. "They'll have food tasters. Guards. Protection spells."
"Then we find another way," I said. "Maybe we attack during the feast when they're relaxed. Maybe we—"
Suddenly, my wolf started stirring inside me. It was the strangest feeling, like something was pulling at my chest. My wolf was pacing restlessly, whining softly.
"What's wrong with you?" Elder Morrison asked, noticing my distraction.
"I don't know," I said, pressing a hand to my chest. "My wolf is acting strange."
The stirring got stronger. My wolf was practically howling inside my mind now.
"That's a sign of your mate calling," Elder Jona said with surprise.
"What?" I stared at her.
"Your mate," she repeated. "When a wolf finds their destined partner, this is how it feels. Like your wolf is being pulled toward them."
"That's impossible," I said. "I don't have a mate. I would have found her by now."
"The mate bond doesn't always activate immediately," Elder Maxwell explained. "Sometimes it takes years. Sometimes it takes a specific moment or emotion to trigger it."
The pulling sensation was getting stronger. My wolf was going crazy, demanding that I follow the scent that was suddenly filling my nostrils.
"I have to go," I said abruptly, heading for the door.
I left the meeting room and walked through the pack house corridors. The scent was getting stronger with every step. It was sweet and familiar, but I couldn't place it.
My wolf was practically dragging me forward now. Down the main hallway, past the common rooms, toward the back of the building.
The scent led me down the stone steps that went to the lower levels. Down toward the storage rooms and servant quarters. Down toward...
"No," I whispered as I realized where I was going.
The scent was leading me toward the dungeons.
I followed it through the dark corridors, past empty cells and storage rooms. My heart was beating faster with each step.
Finally, I stopped at the entrance to the dungeon level. The scent was strongest here. So strong it was almost overwhelming.
I looked down the corridor toward the occupied cells. Toward where we kept the prisoners.
Toward where Ivy was locked up.
"No fucking way," I breathed.