He cradled her, the wet strands of his hair clinging to his skin. “This,” he whispered, gesturing to the wreckage around them, “this is the price of love. This is what we were meant for, Candace. This is what transforms us.”

Exhaustion had dragged at her, pulling her down the abyss of despair. “All this pain... this ruin...” Her gaze had swept over the scene he had destroyed, then settled back on him. “Oh, God...”

His jaw clenched. “I have to face the consequences.”

“But why?” she cried, “This is the Get of Fenris, not the moonlight of my heart!” she cried, her voice a storm breaking through the calm.

He closed the torn shirt, his touch gentle despite the tremor in his hands. “And you are the starlight to my soul. You are my reason for fighting, for surviving. Thank you for loving me the way you do.”

“Always.” She teased him. “Ready to clean this mess?”

“No. But, we wanted to remind the world.”

“Certainly did that. You know what comes next.”

“The hunt.”

All the wolves were in human form and encircled the couple. Ferals lulled and lounged gracefully, basking in the serenity of the moment. A low growl echoed through the gathering crowd of wolves, their eyes mirroring the resolve of their leaders.

Marisol approached them. “¿Qué hacemos a continuación? (What do we do next?)”

Candace smiled reassuringly at Marisol. “We rebuild,” she declared, her voice firm despite the tremor in her chin. “We heal the wounds and mend the broken pieces. We will return to our service.”

“We fight,” Antonio said, a flicker of steel beneath his soft promise on the wind. “We fight for our home, for our pack, for the future we dream of. And we do it together, side by side, as we always have.”

Antonio stared at the devastation with a mixture of grim satisfaction and internal struggle. His silence spoke volumes, hinting at the conflict within him, while simultaneously conveying a chilling message of power and dominance. He lets the weight of what has happened hang in the air. He inhaled deeply and turned toward the humans.

His gaze lingered on the human survivors, who clung together like shattered pieces of porcelain. Their faces contorted in masks of fear and pain, then a mix of defiance and desperation.

A flicker of regret stirred within him, a whisper against the roar of his bestial anger. Twice he’d offered peace, twice it had been snatched away by twisted trust and blind fear.

"My love, what are you doing?" Candace spoke with profound love. She felt secure in whatever he decided to do.

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"We live to serve. How may a king lead if he does not serve by example?" He stepped forward, his shadow swallowing the remaining pockets of sunlight. He took a deep breath, the air heavy with the weight of his choices. “There’s no use in apologies,” he rumbled, his voice low enough to be heard by all. “We offered peace, twice. Twice it was broken.”

A young woman stepped forward, her eyes burning with fury. “Your peace was built on fear, Your infect us. You slaughtered us!"

Antonio met her gaze, his own hard and unyielding. “Perhaps. But fear is a teacher, a sharp blade that cuts away illusions. You chose to ignore its lesson.” A silence fell like a weighted blanket.

His voice, when it broke the silence, was rough with disuse, like an old blade drawn from its sheath. “Look upon your handiwork," he rumbled, the words tumbling out like stones. “This is the price of betrayal, carved in flesh and bone. We emerged as your mirror, reflecting the truth you refuse to see."

There were whimpers, murmurs of defiance and grief. A young girl, no older than Nia, stared at him with wide, accusing eyes. He saw in them the echo of his own pain, the raw fear that had turned him into the monster before them. He paused, letting the words whip through the crowd. A young girl, no more than ten, whimpered, Antonio’s gaze softened for a fleeting moment, but then hardened again.

“We offered peace," he continued, his voice dropping to a growl. “Twice. But your whispers of harmony choked on lies, your olive branches poisoned with blades. So be it. This land," he swept his arm across the smoldering ruin, “is ours again. Dwell on your choices, humans. Let them fester like wounds, a constant reminder of what trust betrayal can reap."

He paused, the silence pressing down again, heavy and suffocating. “We are not monsters,” he growled, the lie twisting in his throat. “We are the echo of your own broken promises. The beasts you created, the shadows you painted on your walls.”

He stepped forward, his movements deliberate, predatory. The survivors flinched, breaths held. But Antonio stopped before the fear could curdle into panic.

“This,” he gestured to the carnage, “this is not the end. It is a pause, a breath before the storm resumes. We choose not to chase you into the darkness, not yet. But remember, the next time we meet, the price of trust may be steeper than blood.”

His gaze swept across the faces, finding no defiance, only terror. A flicker of sadness flickered in his eyes, a whisper of regret battling the beast within. As he turned to his pack, their silent ranks are testament to their unwavering loyalty. Then something shifted within him. A bittersweet ember stirred in the ashes of his fury. He looked at Nia, her small form dwarfed by the enormity of what had transpired.

“There may come a day," he rasped, the words a grudging concession, “when the winds shift, and paths realign. But know this: it will be on our terms, when the scars of this day have healed, and the memory of your treachery serves as a bitter lesson learned."

He turned, his pack a silent tide at his back.

"We go,” he said, his voice barely a murmur. He did not regret his actions, not truly. But the echoes of the girl’s whimper, the taste of ashes, they lingered on his tongue, a bitter reminder of the price of power, the cost of choice.

Their departure wasn’t a retreat, but a slow, deliberate march, a predator leaving its kill after a necessary feast. Lángrén cast a sorrowful glance at the human child. She reminded her of her own children. There will be lingering fear and grief from the pack's obedience to Antonio. She prayed in her heart and soul that what happened here was for a purpose. The reason she could not see it right now.

As they melted into the shadows, the words hung in the air, a promise bittersweet on the tongue - not forgiveness, not forgetfulness, but perhaps, one day, a chance for a different dance, a truce carved from scars and etched in the blood of a broken trust.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of mourning. In the fading light, Antonio cast one last glance back at the shattered city, a solitary silhouette against the embers of his rage. The taste of ashes lingered in his mouth, a grim reminder of the cost of both betrayal and victory.