Chapter 14: The Mission
801 Words
Caleb’s POV
The alarm blared at exactly 02:00.
No snooze. No stretch. Just action.
I sat up, already alert. My body had been trained for this. My mind was already three steps ahead.
In the quiet hum of my room, I dressed in silence — black camo, lightweight, flexible. Breathable fabric that clung to muscle and moved like shadow. I laced my boots, double-knotting them, then reached under my bed for the rucksack I’d packed last night. It held the essentials — a combat knife, encrypted comms device, flash flares, a silencer, and a pair of short blades gifted by Declan.
This wasn’t training. This was war.
I strapped the twin daggers to my chest holster, adjusted the belt of throwing stars at my waist, and tucked my gloves into the side pouch of the sack.
My wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin.
Tonight, we moved in silence. We struck without warning. We ended this.
As I stepped out of my room, the packhouse was dark — the air tense with the weight of what was to come. At the end of the corridor, my father stood waiting. Alpha Michael Owens. Stoic. Sharp-eyed. He gave me a nod, and I fell into step beside him.
Beta Cain and Gamma Soren met us at the front doors. Both men were fully geared — black-on-black, each radiating lethal efficiency. No words were exchanged. None were needed. We had trained for this. Prepared for this.
We descended into the trees, the thick silence wrapping around us like the cloak of the night.
By the time we reached the southern border, the trees thinned, and the outline of our assembled warriors came into view — dark silhouettes against the blue-grey wash of early dawn.
Jacob, Joshua, Nathan, Cole, and Grey were already there, crouched in a circle near a ridge. A dim tactical map glowed faintly in the middle, flickering red with coordinates and markers.
“We’re late,” I muttered.
“Strategically delayed,” my father replied flatly. “We move when the moment’s right. Not when the clock says so.”
“Alpha,” the boys greeted as he approached.
I crouched beside them and focused on the map.
Beta Cain pulled a folded paper from inside his vest — an updated layout of the enemy encampment. “Intelligence says Bloodstones' Alpha — David Sanders — has set up a temporary command base near the battlefront. South-facing bluff. Limited perimeter defense. He’s grown cocky.”
“Or he’s baiting us,” I said, eyes narrowing.
“We’ve reviewed it. Four sentries. One rotation per shift. No perimeter alarms. Either they’re overconfident… or they don’t see us as a real threat anymore,” Soren said.
“Which is why this works,” my father cut in. His voice was calm, but sharp. “This isn’t a glory mission. It’s a surgical strike. In and out. Minimum confrontation.”
The air tensed.
We all knew what this was.
Assassination.
It went against everything our pack stood for — honour, strategy, open war. But this… this wasn’t war anymore. Not in any conventional sense. It was c*****e.
David Sanders left blood and ash in his wake. His name was carved into the flesh of widows and orphans. Villages razed. Packs shattered. Territories turned to wastelands. His Luna, Ravenna, was just as cruel — icy, calculating, and rumoured to poison children in their cradles if it served her cause.
They were monsters.
And Black Moon was the last pack large and strong enough to stop them.
“This is the only way,” my father continued, voice low. “We take out Sanders, his Beta, his Gamma. The rest of the command will collapse. Bloodstone will scatter. They’ve been led by fear and brutality — they won’t last long without a head.”
“And if something goes wrong?” Jacob asked, eyes locked on the Alpha.
“Then we adapt,” I said. “But we’re not backing down.”
“This ends tonight,” my father said. “No more drawn-out battles. No more names etched into stone. We stop the bleeding.”
Everyone nodded, grim-faced. Warriors. Brothers. Sons of Black Moon.
This wasn’t just about power.
It was about peace.
About making sure no more pups lost their parents to fire and war. That no more mates had to dig their other halfs’ bones out of a battlefield. That no other boy — no other Caleb — had to watch his world teeter on the brink.
We moved out before the sun dared rise, our bodies melting into shadow as we crossed the border into Bloodstone territory.
Step by step, heartbeats syncing with the rhythm of war.
We didn’t speak again.
There was nothing left to say.
Only the mission.
And the cost.
- Writer
