Free Web NovelChapter 371: Chapter 371 Brother’s blood
Elijah
Breakfast is a nice affair this morning. Abigail and Allison are talking amicably together about training, the fox court and Royal Protocols. They are smiling and laughing, making my brothers and I relax in a way we haven’t been able to for a while.
At some point mother also joins us, announcing she is going to be taking her meals with us from now on, and that father is pissed about everything and ranting about getting the pack back into old shape. It annoys me, but soon the atmosphere is back to light and hearty, so I let it go for Allison’s sake.
After breakfast we agree to give mother some time with our mate today, and we’ll be in ops making sure father does not make moves we’re not aware of. She seems happy, and immediately gives her arm to Allison, and the other to Abigail who laughs.
"We’ll need a backup plan to the backup plan." I tell Ethan when they are out of earshot. He nods, fishing out his phone.
"I got just the right idea." He says, looking up a number. Then he closes the door to the dining room, making sure no one is outside.
The phone rings a few times before someone on the end picks up.
"Hello, Jax speaking."
"King Jax, Alpha’s Ethan, Ezra and Elijah from Blue Ridge. Sorry to disturb you, but do you by chance have a second?"
The conversation is quick and easy, and afterwards we make our way out into the packhouse and down into ops. We make sure everything is running smoothly, and tell our people that ops will still exist in the future, but more as a preventive and observational tool than actually operating and action. They all listen with rapt attention, all of them accepting the changes with smiles and nods. It’s the next right step.
The day goes by quickly after that, and we pick up on Allison, mother and Abigail throughout the day interacting with packmembers, warriors and Council members. We’re going out with the patrol as the sun sets, and Loki is looking forward to the exercise.
The western border always feels louder after the sun drops, not because anything is actually making noise, but because instinct sharpens when light fades, and I’m halfway through a patrol rotation when the first alert ripples through the link, low and urgent, the kind that doesn’t scream yet but promises it will if ignored.
’Movement,’ Fallon links. ’West line, shallow push.’
’Copy,’ Ethan answers immediately, already shifting his focus. ’Likely scouts.’
That’s what we think it is, a probe, a test, the kind Lizzy’s been favoring lately, and we move fast but measured, boots hitting dirt in sync, weapons ready but not drawn yet, because escalation cuts both ways and we don’t give it away for free.
The forest opens into a narrow ravine just inside our perimeter, wards humming low beneath the leaf litter, and that’s where it goes wrong, because the silence is too clean, the kind that’s curated instead of natural, and I feel Loki tighten under my skin a split second before the first blade flashes out of the dark.
"Ethan," I shout, already moving, already late.
The attack isn’t loud at first, it’s precise, coordinated, rogues fanning out in practiced arcs that tell me immediately this isn’t a handful, it’s a team, trained enough to move without stepping on each other, angry enough to commit, and one of them goes straight for Ethan like he knows exactly who matters.
Ethan staggers, not falling, not yet, but blood darkens his sleeve too fast, and something in my chest snaps hard and cold as I put myself between him and the next strike, blade up, stance wide, Loki roaring inside me now.
’Fall back,’ Ethan snaps through the link, already bleeding. ’Don’t..’
"I’m not leaving you," I answer out loud, teeth clenched, parrying a blow that rattles my arm to the bone.
They press in harder, more bodies than we counted, more blades than expected, and I realize with a sick certainty that this was never a probe, it was bait, and we swallowed it whole.
"We’re asking for Allison," one of the rogues snarls as he lunges, like it’s a joke meant just for us. "Boss wants the fox alive."
Rage flares hot and bright, and I take him down without hesitation, but it doesn’t slow the others, and Ethan’s weight leans heavier against me, his breathing rough now, blood slick under my grip. freeωebnovēl.c૦m
’Loki,’ I link, sharp and focused.
’I’ve got you,’ he answers, steady even as the world narrows.
I mindlink hard, pushing past caution, past protocol.
’We need help. Now. West border. Ethan’s down.’ The response hits immediately.
’On our way,’ Allison links, her calm slicing through the chaos like a blade of ice.
’Galaxy and I are with her,’ Abigail adds, magic already humming in the link.
The next seconds stretch thin and brutal, every movement costing more than it should, every breath a calculation, and I fight with my body angled protectively over Ethan, taking hits I can’t afford but I don’t have another option.
Then the air changes.
It’s subtle, but unmistakable, the wards flaring brighter, magic threading the ground like a net snapping tight, and Allison is there, not hesitating, not calling out, just moving, Ruby surging forward as she hits the fight, Abigail beside her, Galaxy’s power bleeding through every strike.
They don’t charge, they dismantle.
Magic and skill fold together seamlessly, Abigail’s wards snapping into place mid-motion, cutting off escape routes, Allison moving like she’s been here before, like this terrain belongs to her now, and within moments the balance shifts violently in our favor.
Rogues fall, some to blade, some to magic, some to the sheer precision of coordinated violence, and when the last one hits the ground the forest goes eerily quiet again, broken only by Ethan’s ragged breathing.
Allison is at his side instantly, hands already glowing faintly, eyes sharp and focused.
"Elijah," she says, voice steady. "Pressure here." I obey without question, hands moving where she indicates, and Abigail drops to her knees opposite us, Galaxy’s presence anchoring the space as she layers magic over muscle and bone.
"He’s losing too much," I say, fear finally cracking through.
"I know," Allison answers calmly. "Stay with me."
They work together like they’ve done this a hundred times, Allison stabilizing, Abigail reinforcing, magic threading deep without tearing, without rushing, and slowly, painfully, Ethan’s breathing evens out, the bleeding slowing under their hands.
When it’s over, when the danger recedes enough that I can finally think, I look up and realize the warriors who arrived behind them are staring, not in awe exactly, but in something closer to understanding, respect earned the hardest way.
The next day, we regroup.
Divide and conquer, Ezra calls it, and it sticks, because it makes sense now more than ever, and we split deliberately, Ezra staying with Allison and Abigail in the library, old scripts and ward histories spread out across long tables, while Ethan and I return to ops and ground work, training rotations tightening, patrols doubling without announcement.
For a few hours, it feels manageable again.
Then the alarms sound.
Western border.
Again.
’Small group,’ ops reports. ’Likely retaliation.’
"Stay back," Ethan mindlinks Allison without hesitation. ’We’ve got this.’
’Copy,’ she answers, though I hear the reluctance under it.
We move fast, confident, too confident, and when we hit the treeline the truth slams into us hard, because it isn’t a small group, it’s a wave, bodies spilling out of cover with the kind of coordination that tells me Lizzy learned from the first failure.
"They’re here for Allison," someone shouts, and my blood goes ice-cold.
Ethan takes the brunt of it again, a blow catching him where he’s already weak, and he goes down hard this time, not staggering, not catching himself, and panic claws up my spine as I drag him back, blade flashing, heart pounding loud enough that I feel it in my ears.
’I need help,’ I send, raw and unfiltered. ’Now.’ They arrive like a storm.
Allison and Abigail don’t slow, don’t hesitate, they hit the line together, magic and muscle and intent tearing through the attackers with brutal efficiency, and this time there’s no restraint, no holding back, because the line has been crossed and everyone knows it.
When it’s done, when the last rogue is dead or fleeing, the field is a wreck of churned earth and broken bodies, and the pack stands stunned, watching as Allison and Abigail turn immediately back to Ethan, saving him again with the same calm precision as before.
When Ethan finally breathes steady, alive because they refused to let him die, something shifts in the watching wolves, respect settling in deep, undeniable, and I know this moment will echo.
Later, as the sun dips low and the borders quiet again, I sit beside Ethan’s bed, Allison on the other side, her hand steady on his arm, and I don’t say anything because words feel small compared to blood and survival.
Brothers’ blood binds us, but tonight, so does hers.
And the pack knows it.
