“Thank you, everyone, for coming today.” Cayro’s voice cut through the room with the precision of a general accustomed to being heard. “As some of you know, I’ve gathered you here today to discuss the upcoming push into the west boundaries of the country.”
The air in the room thickened. Everyone sat a little straighter, eyes riveted on Cayro. I couldn’t tear my gaze away either. My unit—the 781st, Dragon Fleet—would be spearheading this operation. Combat was inevitable.
“As you all know,” Cayro continued, “the Chinese are eyeing Salt Lake City. We cannot let that happen. Salt Lake is a key strategic stronghold that could allow them to push further into the country.”
A monitor flickered to life, showing a map of Salt Lake City peppered with pins. Military points of interest—Air Force bases, airports, highways—each location a critical artery in the city’s defense.
“The Salt Lake area has several locations ideal for funneling in troops and supplies,” Cayro said, echoing the thoughts I was already running through my mind.
A stern-looking colonel wasn’t convinced. “What’s the plan then, General? I-80’s been closed off for years.”
Cayro didn’t flinch. “While you’ve been training, we’ve been reopening the I-80 corridor. We thought we had more time, but with the forces in California mobilizing, we now have days, not months.”
The room buzzed with whispered concerns, but Cayro cut through them effortlessly. “You and your units will be flown in within forty-eight hours via airships. Your mission is to secure Salt Lake City, shut down the I-80 corridor west of the city, and hold it.”
“Will we have air support?” another colonel demanded.
“Yes, three combat airships will remain in the area,” Cayro confirmed.
The logistics colonel, a no-nonsense woman, jumped in. “We’re talking six battalions, Sir. How are we handling supplies?”
Cayro’s eyes flicked toward me, and I could see what was coming. “Each unit will take preliminary equipment during the first drop. Heavier equipment will come in via trucks once the airports are secured, with airlift support as needed.”
“And do we even have the manpower for that?” the first colonel pushed, doubt lacing his tone.
That’s when Cayro gave me the nod. Time to step into the spotlight.
I stood up, feeling the weight of every eye in the room on me. “Everyone,” Cayro announced, “this is Alpha Acosta, commander of the 781st Transportation Pack—Dragon Fleet.”
Surprise rippled through the room, and I felt a flush of anxiety. I was smaller, younger, and in their eyes, likely less experienced. A few snorted dismissively. One had the nerve to mutter, “She’s an alpha?”
My blood boiled, but I kept my cool. Locking eyes with the speaker, I let my eyes glow silver and growled, “Yes, I am.”
Cayro, ever the master of timing, quirked an eyebrow. “Alpha Acosta and her fleet are the best qualified to transport the equipment you’ll need.”
The room fell silent. The man who’d doubted me shrank back under the weight of Cayro’s and my combined stare.
“Go ahead,” Cayro encouraged me, “tell them about your fleet.”
I swallowed hard and looked around the table. “I command the 781st Transportation Pack—Dragon Fleet. We specialize in moving cargo through rough terrain, hostile areas, and across impassable barriers.”
Recognition flickered in the eyes of one colonel. “Wait, are you the group with the black trucks that went to Big Springs, Wyoming last week?”
“Yes,” I said simply.
“That’s what I thought.” He turned to the others, nodding. “She has my vote. I’ve seen her unit in action.”
“What about the tanks?” A beast of a man spoke up, his voice booming across the room like a thunderclap. “I doubt their trucks can handle the weight of an Abrams main battle tank.”
I met his gaze and arched an eyebrow. This guy had no idea just how much of a beast our trucks were. Before I could retort, Cayro’s chuckle cut through the tension, drawing all eyes to him.
“Sirus,” Cayro began, his tone laced with amusement, “you’re underestimating just how strong Dragon Fleet’s trucks really are. But don’t worry, they won’t be transporting your tanks. Your Heavy Equipment Transport unit will handle that. Dragon Fleet will be escorting them.”
Sirus snorted, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Their production trucks can’t compare to a military HET.”
Before I could respond, Kira leaned back in her chair, inspecting her nails with a casual air that belied the storm brewing behind her eyes. “I think you’ve got it backwards, Colonel. Your HETs can’t compare to our trucks.”
The grin spreading across my face mirrored the one Kira flashed. Her wolf was finally rising to the challenge, and it was a sight to see.
“And who the hell are you to know what a HET can and can’t do?” Sirus shot back, his tone belligerent.
Kira’s eyes gleamed with a devious light, her canines elongating as she bared them in a grin. “I’m one of those transportation experts my Alpha just mentioned. Our so-called production trucks are built specifically to haul weights exceeding one hundred and twenty thousand pounds into active combat zones—all while keeping us alive and completing the mission. Unlike your M1070 HET, our trucks can take the heat in combat. One well-placed mine will destroy your HET and kill its occupants. Think of it like this, Sir… Imagine your HETs and an MRAP had a child. That child would be our trucks.”
The room went silent as Kira’s words hung in the air, the Colonel snapping his mouth shut with an audible click. His eyes darted to me, expecting a rebuke, but I merely shrugged, confirming everything Kira had just said. His gaze shifted to Cayro, silently pleading for backup.
“Sirus,” Cayro’s voice was firm, “for the sake of argument, I think you should drop it. Alpha Acosta and her fleet know more about trucks and transportation than anyone else in this room. I’ve seen what their trucks are capable of.”
The Colonel huffed, sinking back into his chair, but not before glaring daggers at me and Kira. Kira just gave him a sweet, saccharine smile before returning to her nails.
“As I was explaining,” Cayro continued, seamlessly redirecting the discussion, “the 781st will be responsible for transporting the heavy equipment to Salt Lake City.” He gestured to the monitor, shifting the focus back to the strategic map.
For the next hour, Kira and I listened as Cayro meticulously laid out the battle plans, detailing how he wanted everything handled. The tension in the room ebbed and flowed as questions were asked and answered, but the undercurrent of resistance was palpable. Once the meeting wrapped up, we stayed back while Cayro spoke with the others.
When he finally approached us, his expression was stormy, his usual calm replaced with something darker. He held a thick manila folder in his hands, and as he extended it toward me, I felt a knot form in my stomach. I took the folder and quickly scanned the documents inside.
The first few pages were orders—orders specifically for me. I was being called back to active-duty service, promoted to Colonel, and given command of the 781st Transportation Pack under the 102nd Airborne Division. The next set of orders drafted my entire pack into military service, complete with names, social security numbers, genders, and established ranks. Even the dragons’ unit was being transferred under my command.
I looked up at Cayro, my stomach churning. His expression told me everything I needed to know—he’d fought this, and he’d lost. I thought back to my conversation with Director Staroko and the pieces started to click into place.
“Zak backed the President on this decision, didn’t he?” I asked, my voice flat.
Cayro froze, surprised at my deduction. “How did you figure that out?” he demanded.
“The conversation with Director Staroko clued me in. Because of our bond, Zak can’t influence me like he can the rest of the wolves,” I answered, feeling the weight of the revelation settle over me.
"That’s correct..." Cayro’s voice was low, almost apologetic.
My eyes narrowed, the weight of his admission settling heavily between us. “How long have you known?” I demanded, keeping my tone even, though my pulse quickened.
Cayro held my gaze, his expression solemn. “Shortly after we all arrived in Pigeon Forge, after the destruction of my grandparents’ home. Zak gave you an order, and you brushed it off. But when I gave the same order, you complied without hesitation. Zak knew then that he had no real power over you.”
The truth hit me like a sledgehammer, and I felt my muscles tense as I processed his words. One of my closest friends had known this for so long and hadn’t said a damn thing. My voice came out as a low growl, barely restrained. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Cayro took a deep breath, holding it as if he could delay the inevitable before exhaling slowly. “Star and I agreed that we wouldn’t treat you like a subordinate. We decided to treat you like family.”
His words were meant to soothe, but they only ignited the anger simmering beneath my skin. I pushed, needing the real answer, the one they had avoided giving me for too long. “Then why push me away?” The growl in my voice was unmistakable.
Cayro’s expression softened, but there was a flicker of something else—regret, maybe. “What Star and I told you was the main reason. We wanted you to be healthy, to grow into the alpha you were always meant to be. But there was another reason… We had to start preparing you to be a council member for Star and me. With everything that’s happened, it boils down to the fact that, not only are we Zaraki’s, but we are also both Lycotonus. We carry the same power as Zak and Aura.”
I felt my mouth go dry as the implications of his words settled in. “So... you and Star are technically also rulers of the wolves as well?”
Cayro nodded, his expression pained. “In a manner of speaking, yes. The bond that you and I created all those years ago isn’t easily breakable. Once a wolf accepts a king to follow, the only way to break it is for that king to die. Even though I did die, Star still held that bond. She would have had to die too.”
He sat down on the table, his fingers brushing over the scars on his face—a constant reminder of how close we had come to losing him. The weight of his words hung in the air, oppressive and undeniable.
“That brings up another question,” I said, pulling out a chair and sinking into it. My voice was quieter now, the anger giving way to confusion and a gnawing sense of unease. “Why do you and Star need a council?”
“Star and I are the backup plan if something happens to Zak and Aura. Zak absolutely refuses to challenge me, and I refuse to challenge Zak. He’s the rightful heir to the throne. We’ve written an agreement to support each other. In your case, Zak feels it’s not worth fighting me for you or the wolves in your pack. We both believe that having some separation of power is a good thing. Zak and Director Staroko also think it’s wise for Star and me to have a pack under us.”
“Oh...” The surprise in my voice was unmistakable. “Why do they think having wolves under your control is a good thing?”
“For protection—for us and our family,” he answered without hesitation.
I nodded slowly, the pieces starting to fall into place. “I can see their point of view on that.”
“Yeah, so do I. Star and I both agree that while we have the potential to command many wolves, we only want you and your pack as our wolves. We don’t desire to rule like Zak or Director Staroko. If you can even say that old wolf desires to rule, that is.” Cayro chuckled, though there was a somber undertone to it.
I couldn’t help but snort in agreement. We all knew that Director Staroko didn’t want to rule. Not anymore. The wolves in the SkyTeam Pack came to him out of necessity, not because he sought power. He stepped up out of a sense of duty. Now that I understood why he stepped down as the King of the Wolves, I could empathize with him more. He was bonded to Dr. Zaraki, just as I was bonded to Cayro and Star. When they pushed me away, I had felt a deep sense of betrayal because, deep down, I wanted nothing more than to serve and protect them. Director Staroko probably felt the same way towards Dr. Zaraki.
I knew from firsthand experience that the SkyTeam Pack would do anything to protect and serve SkyTeam Aerospace Foundation and its owners. Star and Cayro, while technically owners of SkyTeam, had always steered clear of the corporate side. They were military through and through—Star having grown up aboard the SAF Autumn, living a disciplined, regimented life, and Cayro being a sixth-generation armed forces member. Military service wasn’t just a duty for them; it was in their blood, something they excelled at beyond measure. Now, understanding the real dynamics at play, it made perfect sense why I’d been called back and why my pack had been drafted. If Star and Cayro were in the military, then so were we. There was no other way it could be.
I stood up, the weight of my new understanding settling in my bones, and looked at Cayro. Without a word, I snapped to attention and gave him a sharp salute. He returned the gesture with a nod, and that was all we needed. We both knew where we stood—he was my general, and I was his trusted colonel. No words could capture the depth of our connection and the unspoken understanding that had always been there.
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Straightening my back, I walked out of the dining hall, the manila folder clutched tightly in my hand. Kira followed closely, her footsteps matching my pace. As we stepped outside, I quickly found Director Staroko, and together, the three of us made our way to the waiting SUV. But before I could get in, something pulled at me—an invisible thread tugging at my heart.
“Wait,” I said, holding up a finger. Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked out to the field adjacent to the mansion.
Kira and Director Staroko stood by the SUV, watching as I approached the monument that stood in the middle of the field. The granite statue, a silent sentinel, marked the spot where so many had fallen. I knelt before it, placing my hand gently on the bronze plaque, feeling the cool metal beneath my palm. Bowing my head, I closed my eyes, allowing the memories of that night to wash over me. The chaos, the loss, the blood—all of it came rushing back. But so did the strength, the resolve, and the determination that had driven us to survive.
After a long moment, I stood up, my heart heavy but my spirit unbroken. I turned away from the monument and walked back to the SUV, ready to face whatever came next.
Once we were in the SUV and on the road, Kira finally broke the silence. “What was that all about?” she asked, her voice tentative.
“What are you referring to?” I asked, though I had a pretty good idea what she meant.
“What you and Cayro discussed,” Kira clarified, her tone more certain now.
I glanced into the rearview mirror, meeting Director Staroko’s steady amber gaze. He gave me a slight nod, silently acknowledging the conversation he likely already knew about. I turned to Kira, my expression serious, leaving no room for misunderstanding.
“What I’m about to tell you is highly sensitive,” I began, my voice low and firm. “I plan to tell the rest of the fleet when we get back, but you are not to share this information with anyone outside of the fleet.”
Kira nodded, the weight of my words clearly sinking in. “Alright, Alpha,” she replied softly, sensing the gravity of the situation.
“Dragon Fleet is an independent pack that does not fall under the North American Wolf Council. We’re recognized as an official pack, but they don’t rule over us,” I explained, watching her reaction closely.
Kira’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean? Does that mean we’re a rogue pack?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Our pack falls under the direct leadership of General and Colonel Zaraki.”
“But Lord Lycotonu is the King of the Wolves. He rules over all the wolves on Earth. That includes us,” she stated, her voice filled with certainty.
I glanced back at Director Staroko, hoping for a little help in explaining this delicate matter. He nodded and spoke up, his voice calm and authoritative.
“Kira, you’re aware that I am the previous King of the Wolves, correct?” he asked, his tone respectful but firm.
“Yes, Alpha,” she replied, her respect evident in her tone.
“My son, Lord Lycotonu, recognizes the SkyTeam Pack as an official pack, but he knows that my pack will never obey his orders because of who I am. In the case of Lyra and Dragon Fleet, there are certain... aspects in play that prevent Lord Lycotonu from commanding Lyra and Dragon Fleet. That responsibility falls on Star and Cayro Zaraki. They are to Lyra and Dragon Fleet what Lord Lycotonu is to the rest of the wolves and packs.” He explained, carefully skirting around the most sensitive details.
Kira’s eyes widened in shock as she slowly turned to look at me. “So, what you’re saying is that Star and Cayro are our King and Queen?”
I nodded, confirming her suspicions. “Yes, but I wouldn’t recommend calling them that. They wouldn’t appreciate it.”
“Wow… that is some heavy information, Lyra,” Kira whispered, her voice laced with quiet awe as she processed the bombshell I’d just dropped.
“It’s the main reason we were drafted into military service,” I explained, my tone carrying the weight of inevitability. “Cayro can’t command a civilian pack while also being an active-duty officer in the military.”
Kira bit her lip, clearly wrestling with the implications. “Do we still have a choice about staying in the fleet?” she asked, her words tentative, almost fragile. “I’m not saying I want to leave, but I know the others were worried about that.”
Her question hung in the air like a blade waiting to drop. I looked into the rearview mirror, searching for Director Staroko’s input. His slight shake of the head was all I needed to confirm my worst fears.
I sighed, feeling the burden of leadership pressing down on my shoulders as I opened the folder in my lap. Flipping to the set of orders that drafted my wolves into service, I handed them to Kira, watching her face as she read. The color drained from her cheeks as the reality of our situation became clear. The orders were ironclad, leaving no room for dissent. If any member of the fleet tried to leave, they’d be reassigned to another military pack to complete their mandatory service. The window for opting out had slammed shut before we even realized it was closing.
“Lyra, what are you going to do about this?” Kira asked, her voice tinged with concern as she handed the papers back to me. “The others aren’t going to like this.”
I shook my head, the sense of helplessness creeping in. “There’s nothing I can do, Kira. Cayro and Star tried, but it’s out of my control now.”
Kira frowned, the gears in her mind turning as she tried to reconcile everything. “Is that why Cayro looked so pissed off when he came over to you?”
“Yeah,” I admitted, the memory of his stormy expression flashing in my mind.
“For a second, I thought he was angry at me for speaking up earlier,” she confessed, almost sheepishly.
I chuckled, the tension easing slightly. “He didn’t even mention that. Honestly, I don’t think he likes that colonel any more than you do.”
Kira snorted, her disdain for the pompous officer evident. “Well, if it’s any comfort, I don’t like him either. He was a pompous asshole.”
“Yeah, he acted like he knew everything about transportation,” I agreed, sharing in her frustration.
As we pulled up to the truck, a surprising sight greeted us. The load had been reconfigured, secured with military precision, and wrapped so tightly it looked like a gift straight from Santa himself. The tarp was taut, the bungies perfectly aligned, making the entire setup look flawless. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of appreciation for the team’s work.
Climbing out of the SUV, we said our goodbyes to Director Staroko before heading to the truck. Kira, still the active driver, took her place behind the wheel while I settled into the passenger seat, the weight of the folder heavy in my lap.
As we hit the road, I flipped through the draft orders, each name, rank, and assignment detailed with military precision. When I reached Kira’s file, something caught my eye. She’d been given the rank of sergeant, with an official MOS designation as an 88 Mike—Transportation Operator. But what really caught my attention was her marital status. It listed her as married, with Jake’s name right beside hers.
“When did you and Jake submit for a marriage license?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual.
“Huh? What? We haven’t submitted any paperwork for marriage yet,” she sputtered, clearly caught off guard.
“Well, according to your draft orders, you’re married,” I said, still scanning the document.
“Really? That’s weird,” she remarked, her confusion matching my own.
Curious, I pulled out my phone and summoned Scuzball. It took a moment for him to appear on the screen, his usual mischievous grin in place.
“Scuzball? Do you know why Kira and Jake are listed as married on their draft paperwork?” I asked, patience threading my voice.
“Actually, yes, I do,” Scuzball chimed in, his tone matter-of-fact. “Mated pairings are acknowledged by the military as married. This ensures that the mated pair receives all the proper benefits the military offers.”
“Oh,” I said, the explanation making sense now. “How did the military even know that Kira and Jake were mated?”
“Unlike most packs that are pushed into service, Cayro and Star had me handle all of the paperwork for Dragon Fleet when it became clear they couldn’t get you out of the draft. All of your contracts are ironclad and can’t be modified without your direct agreement as the pack alpha,” Scuzball explained, his voice tinged with a hint of pride in his work.
“So, you filled in the pack information then?” I asked, my tone a mix of curiosity and gratitude.
“Yes,” Scuzball replied, his voice brimming with the smug satisfaction only he could muster.
“Thank you,” I said, appreciating his attention to detail, even if it meant our fates were sealed tighter than ever.
“You are very welcome,” he chirped, his tone almost too cheerful given the circumstances.
I set my phone down on the dash, letting the weight of the conversation settle. As Kira navigated the truck towards the Ankeny yard, I flipped through the last few pages of the paperwork, the reality of our situation sinking in with every word. The yard came into view, and I neatly tucked the papers back into the folder, shoving it into the truck door. As we approached the gate, I handed Kira my ID, watching her pass it to the guard, who barely glanced at it before snapping to a salute.
“Welcome back, Colonel,” he said with a crispness that caught me off guard.
Over the past two days, the yard had transformed again. The once open and bustling space was now fortified, the perimeter fence heightened and covered, the atmosphere charged with the presence of more equipment and soldiers. It was as if we’d rolled into a military base, not our home.
As we rolled towards the back of the yard, Steve and Stoneclaw approached the truck, their expressions a mix of relief and expectation. Kira and I climbed out, exchanging knowing looks before greeting them.
“Hey guys,” I said, forcing a smile despite the fatigue weighing down my shoulders.
“Welcome back, Alpha,” Steve replied, his tone respectful yet familiar.
“How was your trip?” Stoneclaw asked, his keen eyes already searching for answers in our faces.
Kira and I exchanged another glance, this one tinged with a silent agreement to keep things under wraps for now. “Uneventful,” Kira lied, her voice too casual.
Stoneclaw’s stare was piercing, and I knew he wasn’t buying it for a second. Damn dragon was always too perceptive. Sensing the need to shift the conversation, I quickly asked about the rest of the fleet.
“How’s everyone been holding up?”
Stoneclaw arched an eyebrow, his expression making it clear that our conversation wasn’t over. “Over the past two days, the dragons and I have been putting the fleet through their paces. I think everyone’s had a collective eight hours of sleep,” Steve answered, a weary smile tugging at his lips.
“So, everyone’s tired and cranky?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“Most definitely,” Steve chuckled. “Stoneclaw’s dubbed this ‘hell week.’ We’re cramming nine weeks of basic training into four days.”
“Jeez, that means tomorrow is the last day?” I asked, realizing the intense pace they’d been under.
“Yes,” Stoneclaw confirmed.
“Cancel it,” I said firmly, feeling the weight of the new orders pressing down on me. “We need to prepare to leave. Get everyone gathered in thirty minutes for formation. We have new orders.”
Steve snapped to attention, saluting me with a sharpness that took me by surprise. Stoneclaw followed suit, but I expected that from him.
“Stoneclaw, you mentioned we got our uniforms and equipment shipped in?” I queried, shifting gears into full military mode.
“Yes, ma’am. Two full con ex boxes arrived the day after you left, with all our gear—including combat gear, from boots to body armor,” he answered with the efficiency of a seasoned officer.
“Good. After formation, I want you and the dragons to issue everyone’s equipment,” I ordered.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, saluting again before turning on his heel to execute my orders.
Kira trailed behind me as we made our way to the MCV, her uncertainty evident in every step. She looked lost, unsure of where she fit into this new, more rigid structure. For now, she could stick close to me.
Inside the MCV, Catalina was at her workstation, engrossed in a stack of documents. “Catalina, have you received the documents that establish us as a unit yet?” I asked, my tone all business.
“Yes, Colonel Acosta,” she replied without missing a beat, handing over the folder I gave her to compare with her own meticulous records. Her desk was lined with individual folders, each labeled with names, ranks, and service codes—she had been busy.
“Who knows?” I asked, knowing she’d understand the gravity of my question.
“Only you, me, and Stoneclaw,” she answered, her voice steady.
“Is everything ready?” I pressed.
“Yes. All we need is for everyone to sign their documents,” she confirmed.
I nodded, satisfied, and left the MCV. Thirty minutes later, I found myself standing in front of a three-squad platoon, the reality of our new roles settling over me like a heavy cloak. Each squad was a mix of wolves and dragons, with Steve leading the first squad, Raptor the second, and Icetail the third. Stoneclaw stood behind the platoon, filling the role of my head NCO, a position he was more than qualified for given his extensive experience.
As I stood before them, the enormity of what lay ahead weighed heavily on my shoulders. We weren’t just a pack anymore. We were a military unit, bound by duty and the ties that had been forged in blood and loyalty. There was no turning back now.
I surveyed the faces standing before me, each one at attention, waiting for my next move. A heavy silence hung in the air, thick with anticipation. I could feel the weight of my own words pressing against my chest as I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I had to say.
"At ease," I commanded, my voice firm, yet tinged with the anxiety bubbling beneath the surface.
As they shifted their stance, relaxing slightly, I hesitated, feeling the pressure of the truth I needed to reveal.
"I made you all a promise," I began, my tone steady, "a promise that I can’t completely keep."
The words tasted bitter on my tongue, but their expressions remained unreadable, disciplined, and focused. Not a single flicker of disappointment crossed their faces, which only made the knot in my stomach tighten.
"If any of you wish to leave the Dragon Fleet Pack," I continued, my voice softer now, "I will release my bonds from you. You are free to go."
But still, no one moved. They just stood there, waiting, as if nothing I had just said mattered. The silence stretched on, oppressive and confusing. I glanced over at Stoneclaw, silently pleading for some kind of explanation.
“What is going on, Stoneclaw?” I demanded, my voice betraying the confusion I felt.
“Why don’t you ask them?” he replied, his voice carrying an edge of knowing that sent a shiver down my spine.
I searched the crowd until my gaze landed on Cain. "Cain, are you okay?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, afraid of what his answer might be.
He met my eyes and smiled, a soft, genuine smile. "Yes, Alpha, I am okay," he replied, his voice steady and sure.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "Didn’t you and Abel want to leave?" The question came out in a whisper, loaded with the weight of all my fears.
“I did at first, yes, Alpha. But not anymore,” he answered, his words washing over me like a balm, easing the tension I hadn’t realized I was holding.
I turned to Sasha, silently seeking her answer. She met my gaze head-on. "No, Alpha, I don’t want to leave. You have proven to me that you are the Alpha I want to follow," she declared, her voice strong, unwavering.
Tyler raised his hand, his usual enthusiasm tempered by the seriousness of the moment. I nodded at him to speak.
“I speak for all of us, Alpha. Over the past couple of weeks, you have shown us who you truly are and how much you care for us as individuals and as a pack. We, as a pack, have collectively decided that we will follow you to the gates of Hell!” His declaration rang out, loud and proud, reverberating through the air.
The response was immediate. The entire platoon, Catalina, and Stoneclaw erupted in a unified, deep, drawn-out woof that nearly knocked me off my feet. The sheer force of it caught me by surprise, leaving me momentarily speechless. The realization that my pack was not only united but fully committed hit me like a tidal wave.
I blinked rapidly, trying to collect myself. "Dragon Fleet! Attention!" I barked, my voice carrying the authority of an Alpha who had just been reminded of her strength. "Major Pixiewolf will call out your names. When she does, retrieve the folder she gives you and follow her instructions. Once everyone has their folder, Major Stoneclaw will begin issuing your military equipment."
I stepped back, allowing Catalina to take my place. She began calling out names, handing out folders with the precision of a seasoned officer. I stood there, watching as my pack—no, my unit—began to form in front of my eyes. It was a sight both humbling and empowering.
The sound of footsteps approaching from behind pulled me out of my thoughts. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Gunny stepped up beside me, his presence a familiar, grounding force.
“I told you that you’d make a great leader, Lyra,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a rare softness.
“Yes, you did,” I replied, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I just wasn’t expecting us to be a unit as well.”
“Sometimes, Fate has a funny way of surprising us,” Gunny said with a chuckle, his words carrying a depth I hadn’t expected.
His statement caught me off guard. I turned to face him, narrowing my eyes as I tried to understand the shift in his usual straightforward demeanor. “How did you know I was a werewolf?” The question had been gnawing at me for a long time.
Gunny gave me a knowing grin, one that sent a shiver down my spine. “Sometimes, you’re placed on a path that guides you to meet people well before you realize it. Even when one of those people happens to be a close relative to your mentee,” he said with a wink, his words steeped in mystery.
“What do you mean?” I asked, the confusion evident in my voice.
“When you get some free time, Lyra, look up your family tree,” he said with a smile, leaving me with more questions than answers as he walked away.
I stood there, rooted to the spot, watching him go, the weight of his words settling over me like a fog. The mystery of my past was far from solved, but the answers were out there—waiting for the right moment to reveal themselves.