Page 35 of Snarl First, Kiss Later (Alpha’s Prophecy #2)

THIRTY-FIVE

AVA

T he wind was sharp that morning, cutting through the mountain pass like it carried a warning.

Ava stood near the northern watch post, her arms crossed tight over her chest, the scent of metal and pine thick in the air.

The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but the courtyard was already buzzing with preparation.

She could hear the low murmur of troops briefing, weapons being checked, boots scuffing against gravel.

Silas had left earlier with Landon and Caz to walk the perimeter. She’d watched him go and had felt the moment his hand lingered at the small of her back, that silent reassurance that had become a language between them. He hadn’t said anything, but his eyes had. We’re almost there.

She wasn’t sure where "there" was. But they were closer than they’d ever been.

Ava turned toward the comms tent, planning to check in with the Red Pack’s liaison and finish her report to PEACE when the sound of static cracked through the air.

It was loud. Too loud.

All movement stopped.

The feed hadn’t been authorized. No one had touched the console.

Then the screen flickered, the wall-mounted monitor above the planning table glowing to life with distorted black-and-white. A figure stepped into view. The air snapped colder.

Roman.

Ava’s stomach coiled.

He looked older. Meaner. Scar across his brow. But his voice—his voice was the same as it had been when him and his goons would stop through her town. Smooth. Measured. Seductive and cruel.

“To the wolves who still think peace makes them safe. To the humans who’ve traded spine for survival. And to the bitch who betrayed her own kind for prophecy…”

He leaned in closer. “The child will burn. And so will his mother. And the traitor’s human.”

Silas’s voice wasn’t in the room, but she could hear it in her bones. The surge of his fury if he had.

The camera cut out.

Screams rose.

The air snapped into motion again. Landon’s voice cut through it as he stormed into the room from the southern entrance. “Get the Luna and my son secured. Now!”

Ava stood frozen, her ears ringing, her body locked tight.

Not Sonya or the baby.

Not…her.

She saw the others move—Caz barking orders, Red Pack guards shouldering rifles—but Ava couldn’t hear them. The words “traitor’s human” looped in her head like poison.

Because it wasn’t just a threat. It was personal.

Roman knew she was there and who she was, specifically to Silas. He was the traitor.

She ran out of the tent, past the strategists, through the half-woken base where people looked around like the sky might fall. She didn’t stop until she found Silas striding toward the barracks, eyes blazing.

“Ava,” he breathed, grabbing her arms. “You okay?”

“He said your name without saying it,” she answered, voice raw.

“I know.” His jaw was clenched so tight it looked carved from stone.

“Silas…” She swallowed hard. “He’s coming for your king. Your queen. Their kid.”

He nodded once, slow and dangerous. “He won’t get near them.”

Then his hands tightened around her arms. “But you—you need to stay with guards. Until we find where the message came from. Until we know he’s not already here.”

“No.” Her voice snapped out harder than she meant. “I’m not hiding. If I do that now, he wins.”

His face flickered, and Ava saw something behind the fire in his eyes—fear.

Not for himself. For her.

She gentled her voice. “I’m not reckless. But I won’t be sidelined.”

He let out a low breath. “Then you stay near me.”

Their foreheads touched for a second before the war pulled them apart again.

By midday, the courtyard looked like a fortress. Patrols doubled. Sonya was moved to an underground suite deep in the rock-built compound, baby safe in her arms.

Ava didn’t leave her side until Sonya made her.

“You think hiding behind me is going to fix what’s broken?” the Luna had asked with a soft, tired smirk. “Go. Do what you’re here to do. We’ll be alright.”

So Ava had returned to the war rooms, taken her seat across from PEACE reps, sharpened her voice, and shown them that humans could lead alongside wolves.

But Roman’s words lingered.

Not just the threat. The knowledge.

How did he know?

Was it because of her father?

What if this wasn’t about Silas at all? What if this had always been about her?

That night, Ava sat at the edge of the court’s northern lookout, the stars hazy through the cloud cover.

She felt him before she saw him.

Silas walked up slowly, dropped beside her with a grunt. “They tracked the signal to an outpost past the old river bend. Empty now. Cold.”

“Of course it was.”

They sat in silence.

Then she whispered, “Do you think it’s my fault?”

He turned to her sharply. “What?”

“I mean—Roman called me out directly. Not you. Not Landon. Me. What if I led him here?”

His expression twisted. “No. Don’t do that.”

“You don’t think there’s a reason he’s targeting me?”

“I think he sees power and it scares the shit out of him. I think he’s always wanted to control what he doesn’t understand.”

She looked down at her hands, scarred, calloused. “I don’t even understand me.”

Silas reached out, caught her wrist, traced the inside of it with his thumb. “You don’t have to. You just have to keep choosing the fight. And I’ll keep choosing you.”

Her breath caught. Not because of what he said. But because he meant it. She nodded once, leaned into him.

In the quiet, she didn’t feel small.

She felt like the damn storm.

But the battle hadn’t begun yet.

That would come soon. And Roman wouldn’t be a ghost for long.

Ava would make sure of that.