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CHAPTER1

Silas

I didn’t have the patience to deal with this bullshit today.

The tension in the camp had been thick for days, but tonight, it was damn near suffocating. Even the wind that howled through the snowy mountain ridges couldn’t cut through the simmering hostility that hung between the two groups like a live wire.

On one side of the fire, my wolves—battle-hardened shifters, my pack, my family—stood like restless shadows, their eyes glinting in the firelight, every movement a little too controlled, a little too tense. They weren’t outright hostile, but they didn’t need to be. Their mere presence was more than enough to set the humans on edge.

Across from them, the human Resistance huddled closer together, keeping their weapons just within reach. They were survivors, but no matter how hard they tried to hide it, I could practically smell their unease. Wolves made them nervous; I didn’t blame them.

“Look, I’m not saying we shouldn’t work together,” Commander Sorin said, her arms crossed tight over her chest. “But your people need to understand that we don’t answer to you. We’re not your subordinates. This alliance doesn’t work if you expect us to take orders from wolves.”

A low growl rumbled from somewhere to my left. Jax, my second-in-command, shifted on his feet, his jaw clenched tight. “You’re in our territory, human,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “We keep you alive out here. A little gratitude wouldn’t kill you.”

“Gratitude?” A human man named Dawson barked out a laugh. “That’s rich, coming from the same kind that’s been hunting us like animals for the last twenty years. We haven’t forgotten what your kind has done to us. Don’t expect us to start trusting you just because you’re supposedly on our side now.”

Jax took a step forward, and immediately, the humans stiffened, hands dropping to weapons. Knives, pistols, whatever they had within reach were suddenly at the ready. My wolves mirrored them instinctively, shoulders squaring, eyes flashing with warning.

Fuck.

This was how it started, first words, then posturing, then blood. I’d seen it happen a hundred times before and I wasn’t in the mood for it tonight.

“Enough,” I snapped, stepping between them. My voice cut through the growing tension like a knife, silencing the low growls and muttered curses. “We don’t have time for this shit. You don’t have to like each other, but if we’re going to survive through this mess, you’ll damn well learn to tolerate each other. Or you can take your chances on your own.”

I let that settle in the air for a moment before leveling a hard look at Dawson. “That goes for you too. You don’t have to trust us, but you will respect the fact that you’re in my camp.”

His mouth pressed into a tight line, but he gave a stiff nod.

Well… Good enough for now.

I turned to Jax. “Keep everyone busy. No more standoffs. If they have too much time on their hands, find something for them to do.”

Jax hesitated, then dipped his head in respectful acknowledgment. “Understood, Alpha.”

The humans slowly relaxed. The tension never fully faded, but I knew that it wouldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever. At least for tonight though, no one was going to start a war in my camp.

That was the hope, at least.

Satisfied that things wouldn’t devolve into chaos the second I left, I turned and walked toward my cabin, exhaustion settling deep in my bones.

Shutting the door behind me, I exhaled slowly. The silence inside my cabin was comforting, but even here, I couldn’t escape, not completely.

I shrugged off my jacket, dropping it onto a chair, and sat on the edge of my bed. The mattress creaked under my weight, and I sighed, dropping my face into my hands.

Then, as it always did when the quiet settled in, my thoughts drifted toher.

Lia.

The little girl I’d rescued all those years ago.

I ran a hand through my hair and leaned back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling, letting the memories creep in.

I could still see her, standing in the ruins of that human Resistance camp just outside the old city of Denver. She had been such a little thing back then, no more than seven or eight, her clothes dirty, her face streaked with soot and blood. She hadn’t cried even though her world was falling apart all around her. Not even once. She had just stood there, fists clenched at her sides, staring me down like she was daring me to kill her myself.

She hadn’t begged me to let her go. She hadn’t run in fear of what I might do. She hadn’t done anything the other humans had done.

Instead, she had looked at me with eyes too fierce and way too defiant for a child her age, and I had hesitated.