The Alpha's Eyes

Chapter 126 – Shadows of the Past

The healer’s head snapped up. “Leaving?”

“This place is compromised,” he said flatly. “Whoever attacked us knew every weak point, every blind path. If we stay here, we die.”

Kael straightened from the map table. “You’re sure about this?”

Lucien’s eyes were cold. “They knew where we’d be. They struck the moment we were underground. You don’t call that a coincidence.”

Aria’s voice broke the silence, softer than before. “Where will we go?”

Lucien looked at her. For a moment, his expression shifted, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze, but then it was gone. “North,” he said. “Through the mountain pass.”

“The pass?” Kael frowned. “That’s open ground. Three days’ travel, maybe more if the weather isn't favorable. No cover, no shelter. We’d be walking targets.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened. “There’s a settlement beyond it.”

The healer’s brows knit together. “What kind of settlement?”

“The Moon-Blessed,” Lucien said.

Aria’s breath caught. “The Moon-Blessed.”

Silence spread through the tent.

Even the healer froze.

Aria’s heart gave a painful twist. “The Moon-Blessed?” she echoed.

He nodded. “Think about it. They’ve managed to stay hidden for years…wolves marked by the Moon, scattered after the fall of the old Council. If anyone can help us regroup, it’s them.”

Kael barked a low laugh. “Help us? You really think the Moon-Blessed are going to welcome a pack of rogues and a king who burned half the borderlands hunting them?”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t hunt them.”

Kael’s grin was sharp. “No, you just let your council do it for you.”

Aria stepped between them, her tone strained. “Stop it! Both of you.” She looked at Lucien. “Even if we do find them… how do we know they’ll take us in?”

Lucien’s gaze shifted to her, steady. “Because they’ll take you.”

The words hung heavy in the air, between them.

Kael crossed his arms, his voice low. “You’re assuming she’s still one of them. You forget that Penelope, one of the ‘precious’ Moon-Blessed, tried to kill her.”

The healer’s eyes widened. “That’s true?” she blinked, her eyes moving between the three of them. “You can’t mean the legends.”

“They’re not legends,” Lucien replied. “They survived. Hidden. Waiting.”

Aria nodded once, jaw tight. “And they hate me and probably wish me dead.”

Lucien studied her face. “And yet, you’re still alive.”

“Barely,” Kael muttered.

Aria ignored him, her voice quiet. “If Penelope tried to kill me, what makes you think the others won’t?”

Lucien’s answer came without hesitation. “Because they need you.”

Aria frowned. “Need me?”

“You’re marked by the Goddess herself,” he said. “The old mark. The one that hasn’t appeared in generations. Whether they love you or hate you, they’ll have to listen.”

Kael gave a sharp snort. “Or they’ll finish what Penelope started.”

Lucien’s tone dropped colder. “Then they can try.”

The tension between them was thick, crackling like fire. Aria felt caught between them, between Lucien’s impossible certainty and Kael’s dark realism.

The healer shifted uncomfortably. “We don’t have the numbers for another fight,” she said softly. “Even if we leave now, the wounded can’t move fast.”

Lucien turned to her. “Then we take only those who can. The rest will follow once it’s safe.”

Her lips parted. “You can’t just…”

“I can,” he said. “And I will.”

Kael’s hand came down on the table, rattling the metal cups. “You’re going to leave half of the fighters behind? That’s not strategy, that’s suicide.”

Lucien met his gaze without flinching. “It’s survival. We take the strongest, move quietly, draw attention away from the camp. Once we find the Moon-Blessed, we send for the rest.”

Kael leaned in close, his voice a low growl. “And what if they’re not there? What then? Huh?”

Lucien’s eyes gleamed in the darkness. “Then we make a new plan.”

Silence stretched between them. The fire crackled, low and restless.

Aria finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “When do we leave?”

Lucien’s gaze lingered on her for a heartbeat. “Before dawn.”

“Fine.” Kael muttered, “But we’ll need supplies. Half the stores are burned.”

“Then we take what’s left,” Lucien said. “Weapons. Food. Anything salvageable.”

They worked in silence. Aria helped the healer gather herbs and packs, while Kael directed some of the guards to search the outer tents for usable gear. Lucien stayed by the cliffs, his gaze drawn constantly to the mist-wrapped ridge behind them.

Every so often, Aria caught him glancing toward the treeline, sharp, watchful, listening for something only he could sense.

When the last of the salvage was packed, Lucien gathered them near the remnants of the firepit. The sky had darkened, rain threatening to fall again.

“We’ll travel light,” he said. “Follow the river north until we reach the pass. Rest only when we have cover.”

Kael nodded. “And if they come after us?”

Lucien’s expression was unreadable. “They already have.”

Aria looked between them, her stomach tight. “What if the Moon-Blessed don’t want us there?”

Lucien finally looked at her, his gaze steady, unreadable. “Then we make them.”

The night moved slow, heavy with exhaustion and quiet dread. The camp prepared in silence, or what was left of it, anyway. Those who could still walk packed what they could carry. Those who couldn’t watched them go with hollow eyes.

Aria moved through the remains of the tents, helping a wounded rogue tie his pack, offering water where she could. The smell of ash clung to everything. It wasn’t just the camp that was broken, it was the spirit of everyone in it.

Kael approached her, “You shouldn’t be out here,” he said. “If they strike again…”

“They won’t,” she interrupted softly. “They got what they wanted.”

Kael studied her face. “You think this is over?”

“No,” she said. “I think it’s just the beginning.”

He grunted. “One you can read, apparently.”

She met his eyes. “You don’t trust Lucien.”

“I trust what I’ve seen,” Kael said. “And what I’ve seen is a man who only acts when it serves him.”

Her chest tightened. “He’s changed.”

“People like him don’t change,” Kael said quietly.

They watched Lucien move among the survivors, helping one of the wounded rogues to his feet. His movements were measured, silent.

“They just get better at adapting.”