My fingers tighten around the phone 162

Ethan’s POV
“Take care of him,” I murmured to my mother, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. Her face was drawn with worry, lines
cutting deep around her eyes like I’d never seen before. My heart sank looking at her – she seemed to have aged years.
“Of course I will,” she replied, her voice so soft I barely caught it. She reached up and patted my hand, the gesture
somehow both comforting me and pleading for comfort. “He’s stronger than he looks, you know. Always has been.” Her
eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Victoria stood by the window. Sunlight outlined her silhouette as she gazed out at the hospital grounds, shoulders
slumped with the weight of worry. When she sensed me approaching, she turned and attempted a smile that didn’t quite
reach her tired eyes.
“You need to go,” she said firmly, not asking but telling. “The pack needs their Alpha right now. We’ll watch over him.”
She straightened her spine, trying to project confidence I knew she didn’t fully feel.
I chewed my lower lip, feeling torn in half. My duty pulled me one way while my heart yanked me in another. “If there’s
any change—” My voice cracked slightly.
“We’ll call immediately,” Victoria promised, her fingers digging into my arm with surprising strength. “He’d want you to
protect the pack first. You know that better than anyone.” Her eyes held mine, leaving no room for argument.
With a final glance at my father’s sleeping form – so small now against the white sheets – I took a deep breath and forced
myself to leave. The sharp sting of antiseptic burned my nostrils as I marched through the corridors, my jaw clenched
tight. My phone vibrated against my thigh – three missed calls from David and a text that simply read: *Urgent. Call
immediately.*
My stomach twisted into knots as I jabbed at the phone screen.
“I’m on my way to headquarters now,” I barked into the phone, engine roaring to life. “Have the full report ready.” My
knuckles turned white against the steering wheel.
“Yes, sir,” came David’s clipped response.
Every red light felt like a personal attack as I drove, drumming my fingers impatiently against the dashboard. My mind
bounced frantically between images of my father hooked to machines and whatever threat now faced my pack. Rogues
attacking now, of all times – the timing made my skin crawl. They always seemed to know exactly when we were most
vulnerable, like vultures circling wounded prey.
David stood ramrod straight at the entrance when I pulled in, tension radiating from him in waves. He fell into step
beside me, matching my hurried pace toward the command center.
“I was actually about to brief you on the rogue situation earlier,” he said, frustration threading through his words. “But
then your mother called.” His nostrils flared slightly.
I shot him a quick glance, my eyebrow arching. “You suspected something was coming?” My gut tightened further.
“Our intelligence indicated increased activity along the northern territory lines.” David’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“Nothing concrete, but enough chatter to raise concerns.”
The command center buzzed with tense energy when we entered – maps splayed across tables, screens flickering with
security footage, and the low murmur of urgent conversations. My eyes immediately locked onto the central display
where bright red markers dotted our territory like angry wounds.
“What’s the status of the injured?” I demanded, leaning forward to study the tactical display. My pulse pounded in my
ears.
“Stable,” David replied, his posture stiffening further as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Nothing life-threatening.”
Relief flooded through me, loosening the tightness in my chest. Without warning, memories of another attack seven
years ago flashed before my eyes – bloody bodies of friends, faces I’d trained with, laughed with. My stomach churned as
I remembered how those deaths had hollowed me out, especially when my father refused to tell me what he knew about
these rogues.
That night at the resort – when I’d unknowingly met Aria, when Lucas had been conceived – I’d been drowning myself in
whiskey, desperate to numb the raw grief and frustration that had been eating me alive.
“Sir?” David’s voice snapped me back. “Your orders?” His eyes searched my face, concern briefly replacing his professional
mask.
I squared my shoulders and swallowed hard, pushing the ghosts away. “Double the patrols along all borders,” I ordered,
forcing strength into my voice. “I want our best trackers following the retreat paths of these rogues. They have to be
based somewhere within striking distance.”
1/2
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“Already in progress,” he confirmed with a short nod.
I turned to face him fully, studying his expression. “Have you identified their leader? These attacks are too coordinated to
be random bands of packless wolves.”
Something flickered across David’s face – a hesitation, a discomfort that made my skin prickle with foreboding. He
cleared his throat. “We have a name and some intelligence on their commander. Victor Shadowclaw.”
The name sparked nothing in me, but David’s pinched expression told me there was more. “And?” I prompted, dread
pooling in my gut.
“He calls himself the ‘King of Rogues.'” David’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Our intelligence suggests he’s
approximately your father’s age, possibly slightly younger.” He handed me a thin file, his fingers stiff. “There’s… a
possibility that he has some connection to your father.”
I flipped open the file with trembling fingers I couldn’t quite control. The grainy photograph showed a silver-haired man
with sharp features that struck me like a physical blow – something eerily familiar in the set of his jaw, the shape of his
eyes that reminded me of my own reflection.
“What kind of connection?” I asked, my mouth suddenly dry as cotton.
David shifted his weight from one foot to the other, eyes darting away from mine. “The intelligence team has a theory
based on physical resemblance and timeline analysis.” He paused, his discomfort palpable in the air between us. “They
believe he might be your uncle.”
“My uncle?” The word felt alien on my tongue, bitter and strange.