Ex-Alpha's Regret: Siren's Comeback novel Chapter 63

POV: Seraphina

The battle in the northern hills was not a battle; it was a slaughter. My father's small, elite team slammed into Fenrir's butchers with the force of an avalanche. They were outnumbered three to one, but they fought with the righteous fury of wolves defending their den. For a glorious, bloody hour, they held them back from the sacred caves. My father was everywhere at once, a whirlwind of death and defiance, his greatsword singing a song of vengeance.

But Fenrir had planned his ambush perfectly. As my father's warriors began to tire, their limbs heavy with fatigue and wounds, a second wave of Ironfang wolves emerged from the rocks above, crashing down on their exposed flank.

It was a massacre.

My father fought until he was the last one standing, a lone silver wolf surrounded by a sea of snarling enemies. He stood on a mound of the fallen, his body a canvas of a hundred bleeding cuts, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. He was exhausted, bleeding, but he was not broken.

They had won.

Damian's personal guard arrived twenty minutes later. They were too late. They found nothing but a clearing littered with the bodies of Thorne and Ironfang wolves, the ground soaked in blood, the air thick with the stench of death and dishonor.