Chapter 11: The Ambush In The Woods
1437 Words
SEBASTIAN’S POV
The car was quiet as we left the council and headed toward Raventhorn—our next stop. My blood was still boiling from Alpha Corvin’s insolence earlier. Calling me a pup…?
My hands ached from clenching them too tightly. He was challenging me openly. If I were still the same irrational Sebastian from the past—and if my father hadn’t been there—I would’ve snapped Corvin’s head off and crush his body into ashes without a second thought. I wouldn’t have cared if it sparked a war.
Sensing the tension radiating off me, and the suffocating air inside the car, my father finally spoke.
“Save your strength. Corvin doesn’t deserve it,” he said, then turned his gaze back to the window.
He had never been good at pacifying anger—not mine, not anyone in our family. But we all understood this was his way of offering comfort.
“From what he showed earlier, he’s not fit to be an Alpha. Now I understand why his pack often strays. He’s weak—and too full of himself. One day, he’ll learn what a true Alpha really is.”
Indeed. A strong Alpha isn't just strong physically but also intellectually. His father is the great example of it. The Whitlock's had been ruling the whole supernatural beings for centuries and up until now, they were still thriving.
“From what has the council gathered in their investigations, it's already enough to convict Corvin and sentence him with death," I spat coldly.
I'm very much sure he was involved in the rising rebellion of this region and they even seeking for alliance from the other packs.
“Let's wait,” my father curtly responded.
I knew what he was thinking—we shared the same suspicions. Someone was playing the cards behind this retaliation. And I couldn't shake the feeling that it might be someone within the High Council itself since they were too detailed.
We drove deeper into the woods, Ronan behind the wheel, when my wolf suddenly snapped to attention. My ears pricked, and my senses sharpened.
Something wasn’t right.
The deeper we went, the heavier the feeling grew.
My father’s voice cut through the silence. “You feel it too?”
I nodded once. “Something’s coming.”
He didn’t question me. The King Alpha trusted my instincts almost as much as he trusted his own. That was something we shared—father and son, both cursed with instincts too sharp to ignore.
“Ronan,” I said, leaning forward. “Slow down. Take the left fork off the main road.”
Ronan glanced at me in the mirror. He could sense it too—the storm was coming.
“You sure?”
I gave a curt nod. I could already smell them.
Rogues.
They were scattered everywhere.
Ronan obeyed without hesitation, adjusting the wheel. Our convoy shifted behind us, following our lead.
That’s when the first howl came—low and echoing through the trees.
It wasn’t a call.
It was a signal.
Seconds later, the world erupted.
Wolves burst from the forest in every direction—dark shapes moving like shadows, teeth bared, eyes glowing with rage.
The impact came fast and hard.
Four wolves attacked the cars behind us first. I heard the screech of metal, the shouts of guards, the unmistakable crunch of bodies slamming into steel.
“We’re ambushed!” Ronan growled, slamming the brakes as he flung open his door and shifted mid-motion.
I jumped out behind him, already halfway shifted. My claws extended, blood pounding in my ears.
Beside me, my father moved like a force of nature—his eyes glowing, his presence radiating raw King Alpha power.
He didn’t hesitate.
When a rogue lunged straight at him, he caught it mid-air by the throat, slamming it to the ground with a bone-cracking thud. Without mercy, he crushed its neck underfoot and turned to the next.
Our guards were fighting hard, but we were surrounded. There had to be over a hundred of them.
I shifted fully. My senses exploded—everything sharper, faster. I tore through the wolves charging at me, one after another.
My father fought like the warrior he was—every strike deliberate and brutal. He moved like the battlefield was his birthright.
And also mine perhaps. This is what my beast lives for. He craves blood, chaos, and dominance.
When I become the beast, I don’t just lose control—I evolve into a predator without conscience.
My father fights with purpose. But I fight with hunger. He is precise. I am merciless.
We had already killed most of the wolves that attacked us. But the numbers kept coming.
This wasn't a random attack. We were being hunted.
I turned to cover my father’s flank—sensing danger, feeling it press in like a cold breath on my neck.
Then it struck.
A sharp chill slid down my spine—
the kind of instinct that roars in your bones: ‘Behind you.’
I turned in that direction—but it was too fast. Something massive was already mid-leap, heading straight for my back.
I barely had time to brace for the impact.
Then—steel flashed.
A rogue was taken out mid-air, its body hitting the ground behind me like a ragdoll, whimpering before its final breath.
I turned—and there was Callum, standing over the corpse of the wolf that had lunged at me.
“Am I right on time?” he asked, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips.
He hadn’t shifted. Instead, he held a long, sharp blade—almost like a sword—dripping with blood.
His eyes met mine. “Let’s finish this.”
Another wave of rogues surged toward us. We didn’t have time for questions.
Callum shifted fully, his form expanding into a massive gray wolf.
We fought—side by side.
Callum and I fell into rhythm like we had never left each other’s side—his claws and mine cutting down anything that came near. His movements were precise, instinctive. There was never a single motion wasted.
Father noticed him too. Our eyes met across the chaos, and he gave me a tight nod—not of approval, but recognition.
He understood. This wasn’t the time for reunions or questions.
Eventually, the tide shifted.
The rogues began to retreat, one by one, slinking into the trees like shadows melting back into the night.
I stood there, blood soaking through my thick fur, a long cut bleeding at my shoulder.
But I didn’t feel it.
All I could focus on was Callum.
He stood just a few feet away, shaking blood from his fur like none of it mattered.
Then we shifted back into our human forms with ease.
Father approached us, his coat bloodied too. There was a long gash marking his forearm—but he wasn’t even breathing hard.
He eyed Callum with narrowed eyes. “You’ve got some nerve showing your face here.”
“Would’ve been dead without me. Both of you,” Callum replied coolly.
My father didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to me. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” I said, letting out a breath. “Shoulder’s grazed, but it’s nothing serious.”
Ronan jogged over, his left arm bleeding but still usable. “Any casualties?”
“Three of our guards are down,” my father replied, his voice tight. “I’ll just make the call.”
He stepped away, already pulling out his phone.
I turned back to Callum, jaw clenched. “Why are you really here?”
I didn’t sense any threat in him—no deceit, or malice. Callum was the first person I trusted the most. I had no reason to suspect him. But it still didn’t sit right with me. My instincts wouldn't rest on questioning his sudden appearance.
He met my gaze and shrugged.
“I was on my way to Raventhorn to meet an old packmate—he’s a scientist too, a brilliant one. I was hoping to bring him into the lab. But when I got close, I caught your scent. And then I saw Uncle being attacked by rogues... so I came running.”
I didn’t respond. I still couldn't shake the strange feeling in my gut—like something just wasn’t right.
My father returned, his voice sharp. “Let’s get out of here.”
I nodded—but my mind was circling around Callum.
I wasn’t sure if he had really saved us… or led them straight to us.
- Writer
