Chapter 11: The Breaking Point

RONAN

Moon Lake City's lights blur in the distance as I stand at the edge of the carnage, the wreckage of the attack sprawled out in front of me. A once-bustling street corner is now a smoldering ruin—shattered glass, overturned cars, and the metallic scent of blood mingling with the acrid smoke. And not just any blood. Rogue wolves hit us tonight. Bold. Brazen. In broad daylight, in full view of humans and supernaturals alike.

This wasn't just a message to me. This was a show for everyone in the city.

I feel a tightening in my chest, a coiling anger that's been simmering beneath the surface for days. It's not just the wreckage or the bodies of my wolves being loaded into ambulances that gets to me—it's the audacity. The sheer boldness of this attack, in the heart of my territory, right in front of humans and supernaturals who now work and live side by side. The balance we've worked so hard to protect has been shattered in an instant.

The Ministry of Supernatural Affairs is going to have my neck for this. The human officials will demand answers. And the supernatural factions? They're already circling, waiting for me to stumble. The attack's timing is too perfect, too public. 

The rogues wanted to make a spectacle—and they succeeded.

"We've got to get our people out of here before the media swarms in," Cillian says, coming up beside me. His voice is steady, but there's an edge to it—a barely masked urgency that tells me he's feeling the weight of this too. 

"Yeah, the last thing we need is for the press to plaster this across every screen in the country." Even in a world where supernaturals live alongside humans, attacks like this make everyone uneasy.

"Get everyone out," I say quietly, my gaze still on the wreckage. "We can't afford to let this get out of control."

I survey the scene. Three of my wolves are being loaded into an ambulance by human and supernatural paramedics. Their wounds are deep, but not fatal. The casualties, though, are just the start of our problems. 

We've lost one—a young wolf, barely out of training. He didn't even have a chance to shift before they tore him apart. My pack is already feeling the strain, and this? This is just the beginning.

The city's law enforcement may be used to supernatural skirmishes, but an attack like this, in the heart of Moon Lake City? It's not something they'll forget easily. 

There are already whispers among the humans, and even though we've tried to keep the peace, to build bridges, moments like this tear those efforts apart. The balance between humans and supernaturals is relatively new, and from the beginning, it has been fragile. 

Tonight, that balance was shattered.

"They didn't even try to hide it," Cillian mutters, glancing around at the destruction. "This was as public as it gets."

"They want us to look weak," I say, my voice low, barely keeping the growl out of it. "They're testing the city's patience. They want everyone—humans, supernaturals, the government—to doubt that we can control our own."

"And if we can't?" Cillian raises an eyebrow, his meaning clear. If we can't control the rogues, if the pack starts to fracture, the city won't just lose faith in us. The supernatural factions might break off, the humans will push for stricter control, and we'll lose everything we've built. All the work, all the integration—it'll be gone in an instant.

I feel a growl rumbling low in my throat, but I swallow it down. I can't afford to lose control, not here. Not when every faction in the city is watching us, waiting for a misstep. 

The Ministry of Supernatural Affairs will demand answers, and I'm expected to give them. But how can I give answers when I don't even know what's coming next? The rogues aren't just a pack problem—they're a city-wide issue now, threatening the delicate balance between human and supernatural communities.

I need a plan, and I need it fast.

"Get the pack back to the compound," I tell Cillian, my voice steady despite the chaos around us. "I'll deal with the Ministry."

Cillian hesitates, glancing at the human paramedics and police officers already starting to cordon off the area. "And what about them? You think they'll let this slide?"

"No," I say. "But right now, we need to contain this. I'll speak to the Ministry, make sure they know we're handling it. Just get the pack out of here before things get worse."

The compound isn't a peaceful retreat—it's a fortress, resembling a luxurious hotel from the outside. Hidden deep in the forest, near the lake from which the city got its name, far from prying human eyes but close enough to the city to act fast. It's where the pack trains, gathers, and regroups when things go sideways. 

Some wolves still live there—those without families, or the ones who prefer to stay close to the pack's core. It's a place for the pack to fall back to, not a home in the usual sense, but it's always been a part of our lives.

Hell, I've got an apartment there too, as it's customary for the Alpha. I used to spend more time in my place in the city, though, keeping to my own space. But lately, with this marriage mess and Isabelle vanishing, I've found myself at the compound more often than I'd like to admit. It feels like the center of everything again, whether I want it to or not.

We've worked hard to integrate with the city. To show that we're not some shadowy pack lurking on the outskirts. To create communication and peace between factions and humans.

But that peace? It's fragile. And an attack like this, right in the heart of the city, threatens to break everything we've built. Every relationship, every alliance—it's all teetering on the edge.

Cillian nods at my order, but his eyes stay locked on mine, like he's waiting for something. He hesitates, then speaks, his voice quieter than before. "Ronan, this isn't just about the rogues anymore. You know that, right?"

I gritted my teeth, the weight of his words sinking in. 

This isn't about the rogues, not really. It's about Isabelle going MIA, and the witches scheming something. 

The second she vanished, everything started to unravel, and using Maeve as a substitute bride bought me some time. We dodged the immediate disaster of canceling the wedding, avoided the humiliation that would've followed—Ronan Westwood, not alpha enough to keep his bride, not strong enough to lead the West Coast Supernatural Coalition. The whispers would've been worse than the rogues.

But that wasn't the worst of it. An alpha needs a partner, a mate to cement their leadership, and the marriage to Isabelle was long overdue. Without a partner, my position could be questioned—seen as vulnerable. Not having someone by my side could've opened the door to challenges, or worse, coups from within the packs themselves. The whole damn Coalition had been on edge for months, waiting for an excuse to come after me.

Maeve as a stand-in wasn't enough. Sure, it staved off the scandal, stopped the vultures from circling right away. 

She wasn't just a human in Isabelle's place—there was the PR angle humans were more than eager to latch onto. After all, witches considered themselves human for the most part, and since Maeve was connected to witches through her sister's marriage to Nimah, it was an easy sell for them. They didn't need much convincing. That connection made it easier for the Coven to agree to the swap, no questions asked. It was all part of their bigger game, and I knew it.

But the other factions? The werewolves packs, the vampires and so many more - they weren't as easily placated. They saw weakness in it. 

They saw the human standing in for my bride, and suddenly, there was a window to question me, to pull my leadership apart thread by thread. And now that Isabelle had disappeared without a trace, and with a human temporarily in her place, they weren't just asking questions—they were waiting for me to slip. Every decision I made was under scrutiny, every move watched for signs that I wasn't strong enough to lead.

And now Declan has the perfect moment to strike. The rogue alpha—charming, powerful, and dangerous. He's been circling for years, building his own following, and while no one likes him, everyone knows he's a threat. And now? Now it feels like he's behind this mess, these rogue attacks. 

If Declan's behind them, it's not just about random violence anymore. It's about destabilizing everything we've built, everything I've worked to hold together.

I bite back my frustration. I've been trying to handle this on my own, trying to keep the pack stable, trying to keep the factions from turning on each other. But now the rogues are attacking us in broad daylight, in the middle of Moon Lake City, in front of both humans and supernaturals. 

The balance is slipping, and the fact that no one's really seen Maeve and me together since the wedding? It's on me, I know that, but it's not helping the case. If anything, it's making me look weaker.

I glance back at the scene, at the wreckage, the flashing lights, the human and supernatural officials scrambling to restore order. The weight of it presses down on me, and I can feel the cracks forming. My leadership, my strength as Alpha, my pack's lives—it's all on the line.

"We'll talk when we get back," I mutter, turning on my heel and heading for my car. I've avoided Maeve long enough. I know that now. It's time to face the truth of this bond, the thing that happened to her in the process, of what we are, or aren't, together. Because if I don't, everything I've built will come crashing down.