Page 26 of Where Lightning Strikes Twice (Fated Mates, Stubborn Hearts #2)

ALPHA SABLE

T he forest floor feels alive beneath my paws as I lead my pack through the dense undergrowth.

Even in wolf form, I can smell the acrid tang of smoke and ash from the recent battles.

The war between the Storm Eagles and Haven’s Heart has scorched parts of our territory, turning lush woodland into blackened scars.

Three days have passed since the public confrontation at the aerie’s execution platform.

With the shifter world in upheaval, I watched with growing concern as Viktor systematically rebuilt his Storm Eagle clan authority.

He dismissed the council’s concerns as “ground-dweller deception” and accelerated his plans for the Dire Wolf alliance.

Half the clan still follows him—some from fear, others from genuine belief in his vision of Storm Eagle supremacy.

The window for peaceful resolution has closed.

Behind me, twelve of my most trusted wolves move in perfect formation—silent, deadly, and completely loyal.

We’ve been tracking a group of Dire Wolves for three days, following their unmistakable scent of decay and blood.

These aren’t our kin; they’re Viktor’s new allies, and they’ve been encroaching deeper into neutral territories with each passing day.

I pause at a stream crossing, lifting my nose to catch the wind. The Dire Wolves’ scent is stronger now, mixed with something else—human blood. My hackles rise instinctively. Dire Wolves don’t take prisoners; they hunt for sport.

A soft whine from Ash, my beta, alerts me to movement ahead. I signal the pack to spread out, flanking whatever lies beyond the ridge. As I crest the small hill, the scene below freezes my blood.

A Haven’s Heart medical wagon lies overturned in a small clearing. Bodies are scattered around it—guards, a driver, and what appears to be medical personnel. The Dire Wolves have already moved on, leaving only carnage behind. But there’s movement—someone is still alive.

I shift forms in a fluid motion, fur receding as my body straightens into human form. My red hair falls loose around my shoulders as I signal the others to maintain wolf form and establish a perimeter.

“Check for survivors,” I command, my voice rough from days spent as my wolf.

Ash shifts beside me, his lanky human form materializing as he nods and moves toward the wagon. The rest of the pack circles the clearing, noses to the ground, ensuring the Dire Wolves aren’t lying in wait.

I approach the nearest body—a woman in a Haven’s Heart medical uniform. Dead, her throat torn out. The wagon bears the same insignia I’ve seen on supply runs to the northern settlements. This was no random attack; the Dire Wolves targeted medical personnel specifically.

“Sable!” Ash calls from behind the wagon. “We’ve got a live one!”

I hurry over to find him kneeling beside a man half-hidden under the overturned vehicle. The survivor wears a Haven’s Heart uniform, but the insignia marks him as a scientific staff, not military personnel. Blood soaks his side where claws have ripped through his protective gear.

“He’s barely hanging on,” Ash says, already applying pressure to the wound.

I kneel beside them, examining the injury. “Dire Wolf attack, but they didn’t finish him. Why?”

“They were interrupted,” the man gasps, his eyes fluttering open. “Storm Eagles… fighting among themselves… one group attacked the Dire Wolves.”

My pulse quickens. “Eagles fighting Eagles?”

“Golden one… against the silver-streaked one.” His breathing grows labored. “The silver one grabbed Doctor Ashford. Said she was key to his plan…”

Elena Ashford—the scientist who’d been captured by Viktor. We’d heard rumors of her escape with the Storm Eagle leader, but nothing confirmed until now.

“Where did they take Dr.Ashford?” I ask, leaning closer.

“I heard them mention ancient ruins… southern mountains. And Viktor’s war camp at Black Ridge.” Blood bubbles at the corner of his mouth. “They found something… needs protection. All clans… in danger.”

His eyes roll back as his body goes limp. I press my fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse. Still there, but fading fast.

“We need to get him to a healer,” I tell Ash. “Now.”

“Our territory is closer than any Haven’s Heart settlement,” he reminds me, already fashioning a makeshift stretcher from broken wagon parts.

“Then we take him to Mother Willow.” I glance around the clearing, noting the patterns of the attack. “This was planned—the Dire Wolves knew exactly where to strike.”

Ash nods grimly. “Viktor’s intelligence network is better than we thought.”

“Or he has a traitor in Haven’s Heart.” I help secure the wounded man to the stretcher. “Either way, we need to find out what Dr.Ashford discovered that’s so important.”

We move quickly through the forest, four wolves carrying the stretcher while the others maintain guard positions.

The sun climbs higher as we travel deeper into Northern Forest Clan territory—my territory.

Unlike the Storm Eagles with their mountain aeries or Haven’s Heart with their fortified settlements, we wolf-shifters live in harmony with the land, our boundaries marked by scent rather than walls.

By midday, we reach the ancient oak that houses Mother Willow’s healing den. The massive tree, hollowed by centuries of wind and rain, serves as both home and clinic to our pack’s eldest healer.

Mother Willow emerges before we even announce ourselves, her silver hair hanging in long braids around a face weathered by time but still fierce with intelligence.

“Bring him inside,” she commands, not wasting time with questions.

The den smells of herbs and earth magic—comforting scents that remind me of childhood visits. Mother Willow directs us to place the stretcher on a bed of moss and fresh leaves before shooing everyone but me out.

“Haven’s Heart scientist,” I explain as she cuts away his bloodied clothing. “Dire Wolf attack, but they left him alive.”

Her hands move expertly over his wounds. “Not alive by their choice. See these marks? They thought he was dead already.”

She works in silence for several minutes, applying poultices and murmuring healing chants that make my skin tingle with ancient magic. Finally, she straightens.

“He’ll live, but he won’t wake for hours.” She fixes me with a piercing stare. “Now tell me why you’re bringing Haven’s Heart people into our territory when there’s a war raging.”

I explain what the man told us about Elena Ashford and the Storm Eagles fighting among themselves. Mother Willow’s expression grows increasingly troubled.

“The ancient ruins in the southern mountains are forbidden places,” she says, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Your grandmother spoke of them—repositories of old magic from before the barriers.”

“What kind of magic?”

She shakes her head. “Power that could bind or break the natural order. If Viktor seeks it, and if this Dr.Ashford has found something there…” She doesn’t finish the thought.

A commotion outside interrupts us. I exit the den to find my pack in defensive positions surrounding a newcomer—a small, wiry woman with short black hair and the distinctive scent of a fox-shifter.

“Swift,” I acknowledge the messenger from the Eastern Glade Clan. “What brings you to our territory?”

She bows respectfully. “Alpha Sable. Chief Bran sends a warning. Viktor’s forces are moving south in large numbers—Storm Eagles and Dire Wolves together. They’ve abandoned attacks on Haven’s Heart settlements to focus on the southern mountains.”

My stomach drops. “When?”

“They began moving at dawn. Chief Bran believes they’re converging on the ancient temple ruins.”

Where Elena and Kael discovered something significant enough to divert Viktor’s entire war effort.

I make my decision instantly. “Ash, gather our fastest runners. Alert the other neutral clans. Mother Willow, when that man wakes, learn everything he knows.”

“And you?” Ash asks, already knowing the answer.

“I’m going south. If Viktor is abandoning his vendetta against Haven’s Heart to focus on those ruins, whatever is there could threaten all territories.” I turn to Swift. “Tell Chief Bran I request his assistance. We need to form a coalition—now.”

Swift nods and darts away, shifting to fox form mid-stride.

Mother Willow catches my arm. “The southern ruins are dangerous, Sable. Your mother forbade any clan member from venturing there.”

“My mother isn’t clan leader anymore.” I meet her gaze steadily. “I am. And I won’t stand by while Viktor unleashes magic that could destroy us all.”

“Then take this.” She presses a small leather pouch into my hand. “Ancient protection. The ruins recognize old magic.”

I tuck the pouch into my belt, then shift back to wolf form. The transformation flows through me like water—fur sprouting, bones realigning, senses sharpening. In this form, I can cover the distance to the southern mountains in half the time it would take in human form.

Before departing, I throw back my head in a long, commanding howl—the call to gather allies. Others join, their voices carrying the message across the territories. The Northern Forest Clan is mobilizing.

The journey south takes me through increasingly unfamiliar territory.

I avoid Haven’s Heart patrols and Storm Eagle scouts alike, using the forest canopy for cover when possible.

By nightfall, I’ve reached the foothills of the southern mountains—ancient, mysterious peaks shrouded in mist even on clear days.

I pause at a ridge overlooking a wide valley, shifting back to human form to better assess the situation.

In the distance, I can make out movement—too organized to be wild animals, too numerous to be hunters.

Viktor’s forces, moving with military precision toward the central mountain where the ruins supposedly lie.

A sound behind me—soft footfall on pine needles. I whirl, dropping into a fighting stance.

“Easy, wolf.” A massive figure emerges from the shadows. Chief Bran of the Bear Clan stands nearly seven feet tall in human form, his broad shoulders and thick black beard making him look like a mountain given life. “I got your message.”

Relief floods through me. “You came yourself.”

“When the Storm Eagles and Dire Wolves form alliances, old rivalries seem petty.” He moves beside me to survey the valley. “My scouts report Viktor has at least fifty Storm Eagles and twice as many Dire Wolves.”

“An invasion force,” I murmur.

“No.A ritual gathering.” Bran’s deep voice is grim. “My clan’s historians believe the southern temple was built for magical convergence—ceremonies requiring hundreds of participants.”

A chill runs down my spine despite the warm night. “Viktor wouldn’t?—”

“He would.” Bran turns to me, his green eyes reflecting the moonlight. “My scouts intercepted a message intended for his commanders. Viktor plans to conduct an ancient ritual that will grant him dominion over all storm magic. It requires blood sacrifice—hundreds of them.”

Nausea rises in my throat. “We have to stop him.”

“That’s why I brought help.” Bran gestures behind him, where shapes begin emerging from the darkness—dozens of bear-shifters, wolf-shifters from other packs, even a few solitary shifters I don’t recognize.

“The neutral clans stand together,” he says simply.

For generations, the wild territories have been divided—each clan keeping to itself, protecting its borders, maintaining uneasy truces. Now, facing extinction, ancient enemies stand shoulder to shoulder.

“We need to coordinate with Kael’s loyalists,” I say, mind racing through strategic possibilities. “And Haven’s Heart, if they’ll listen.”

“Already done.” Bran points to a dark-haired man approaching from the eastern ridge. “Marcus Ashford arrived an hour ago with thirty Haven’s Heart soldiers. Elena is his sister.”

The pieces click into place. “That’s why the wounded scientist was headed to Haven’s Heart—to alert her brother.”

“The Storm Eagles loyal to Kael have established a perimeter around the temple itself,” Bran continues. “But they’re outnumbered. Viktor’s allied forces will reach the main entrance by dawn.”

I study the terrain, calculating distances and defensive positions. “We need to reach Kael before Viktor does. Whatever he and Elena have discovered could be crucial.”

“Agreed. But a frontal assault of Viktor’s forces would be suicide.”

“Then we don’t assault. We infiltrate.” I point to a narrow ravine cutting through the western face of the mountain. “My pack can navigate that passage. If we can get inside, find Elena and Kael?—”

“You’d need a distraction.” Bran’s expression is thoughtful. “Something to draw Viktor’s attention away from the western approach.”

A new voice joins our conversation. “I believe I can provide that.”

Marcus Ashford steps into our circle, his Haven’s Heart uniform replaced by muted combat gear. The resemblance to his sister is striking—same determined jaw, same intelligent eyes.

“My troops can stage an attack from the south,” he says without preamble. “Military precision, maximum visibility. Viktor will be forced to divert forces to counter us.”

I eye him skeptically. “Why would Haven’s Heart help wild clans?”

“I’m not here for the clans. I’m here for my sister.” His expression softens slightly. “But Elena’s research suggests Viktor’s ritual could destabilize magical balances across all territories. No one’s immune.”

Bran and I exchange glances. The wild clans have always distrusted Haven’s Heart’s motives, but desperate times require unlikely alliances.

“We attack at dawn,” I decide. “Bear Clan and Haven’s Heart forces create the distraction. My pack infiltrates through the western ravine. Our objective is to reach Elena and Kael before Viktor can complete whatever ritual he’s planning.”

As we finalize plans, I find myself gazing up at the mountain.

Somewhere in those ancient ruins, two people from opposite worlds have discovered something worth dying for—worth killing for.

Whatever truth they’ve uncovered about the prophecies, about the relationship between Storm Eagles and ground-dwellers, it’s powerful enough to change the course of this war.

I’ve kept my pack neutral for years, believing the conflicts between Haven’s Heart and the aerial clans weren’t our fight. Now I realize no one can remain neutral when all magic hangs in the balance.

Dawn approaches, painting the eastern sky with pale light. I shift back to wolf form once again, gathering the others with a soft growl. The ravine awaits us—a narrow path that might lead to salvation or slaughter.

As I lead my pack into the shadows, one thought burns in my mind: after generations of isolation and conflict, the fate of all territories now rests on an impossible alliance—and on whatever Elena and Kael have discovered in the ancient heart of the mountain.