Page 82 of A Reign of Malice
“That’s what we’ve been hearing whispers of tonight,” Callen says. “And with your confirmation, comes ours. We’ll fight tonight. For you. For this pack. For the kingdom we could have had and will have again.”
“You’re sure?” I ask, searching their faces. “We only want those who truly choose this.”
“Absolutely,” Ree says firmly.
Sloane stands taller beside me, her voice proud. “Then we’re honored to have you with us.”
We leave them with our gratitude, moving toward the next group. But for the first time since returning to this broken kingdom, I’m beginning to feel like the king Sloane keeps calling me.
I can do this for these people. I can bring them the hope they’re searching for.
I glance at Sloane—the woman who freed me, the queenwho refuses to bend—and she looks back at me with something fierce and luminous in her gaze.
“Alpha King suits you,” she murmurs.
I lift her hand and press my lips to her knuckles. “Only because you’re standing next to me.”
She smirks. “Then let’s go find the rest of our army.”
And this time, we don’t just walk forward as warriors preparing for battle.
We walk forward as rulers. Ready to take back our kingdom.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
SLOANE
Walking among the wolves today is nothing like I imagined it would be. I’ve done it before, countless times in Alcaris, among my own people. But this is different. These aren’t just wolves preparing for a shift in leadership or some change in law. They’re wolves ready for war.
Most of them looked at me and Julian as if we’re the spark they’re clinging to. The one they’re choosing to follow straight into the fire. Their eyes tracked us as we moved through the sanctuary. Some were cautious. Others reverent. A few looked as though they hadn’t yet decided what to believe, but they’re here. That’s something. Hell, that’s everything because they’ll be safer in this mountain than nearer to the castle.
Even now, as we walk toward the room we were shown earlier, I sense the underlying peace, see it in their relaxed shoulders, in the way they nod when we pass. They’re ready for what comes next, not because they were ordered, but because they believe in what we’re trying to do. In what we’re trying to protect.
And yet, every step I take brings the weight of their trust down on my chest. Half of these people are ready to fight, to bleed for their pack, maybe even die, all because I said this was the right thing to do. That’s not the kind of responsibility I take lightly.
Julian brushes his hand against mine as we slow to a stop just outside the main cavern again. That simple touch steadies me, tethering me to the moment instead of letting my mind spiral toward what might go wrong. Because right now, we don’t have time to fear. Only to act.
As if summoned by the shift in my thoughts, Clara appears, flanked by two younger wolves dragging several large crates behind them. Her blonde braid rests neatly over one shoulder, but her cheeks are flushed with exertion and pride.
“I knew if these people had built all this,” she says with a wave of her hand, “they were likely prepared for many scenarios, including war, which means they’d need clothing fit for warriors. Though, I may have had some adjustments done to a few of them while you were busy. Between what they already had and what we could scavenge, I think you’ll like what’s been put together.”
I raise a brow as she unclasps the lid of the first crate and flips it open. Inside, folded neatly and cleaner than I’d expect for having been made underground, are stacks of dark leather and reinforced fabric. Not royal garb, nothing flowy or gilded. No, these are clothes made for battle.
Armored corsets. High-necked, sleeveless tunics with reinforced stitching across the chest and spine. Leggings woven with protective threading and slots for blade sheaths. A belt already prepared with throwing daggers rests beside a set of leather bracers etched with the symbols for three of Lunara’s kingdoms.
Clara looks up at me, smile soft. “I thought at least one item should reflect all of you. Not just Alcaris. You’re fighting for more than one pack now.”
Isla appears over my shoulder and lets out a low whistle. “Nowthisis something I can kick some ass in.”
Estee walks in behind her, eyes scanning the crates. “Battle couture. I approve.”
Clara pulls out a set from the crate and holds it up to me. “Outfits for all the queens and kings are ready. We didn’t know how long we’d have, but there was no way I was sending you into a fight looking like you were headed to a coronation.”
I take the clothes from her slowly, the material cool and dense in my hands. “Clara, you went above and beyond with these. You didn’t have to do this.”
She lifts her chin. “Of course I did. This is what you wear when you go to show the world who the hell is in charge.”
I laugh, the sound soft but genuine. “Then I hope you brought boots too.”
