Chapter 49
Greg had intentionally increased the portion size. As an Alpha, Zion was larger than the average wolf, and his body demanded more food to sustain both his size and power. Alphas possessed incredible brute strength, but that strength came with a cost—it consumed an enormous amount of energy. If Zion didn’t eat properly, he wouldn’t be able to perform at his best on the battlefield.
The meat used in the soup had been either smoked or sun-dried—preservation methods necessary for their current circumstances. To make it more palatable, it had to be either boiled longer or soaked before cooking; otherwise, it would be too dry and tough to eat.
Still, they had little choice. Their meals had to rely on ingredients with long shelf lives likepotatoes, flour, preserved meats, and other hardy supplies that wouldn’t spoil easily.
With limited ingredients, they had no choice but to get creative with their meals, using the same basic supplies in different ways. Fortunately, Addison had anticipated this and made sure to send a variety of goods with each shipment.
If she sent flour one time, the next delivery might include rice. If they received beef jerky or smoked beef in one batch, the next might bring smoked bacon or cured pork ham. Thanks to this rotation, Zion and his people could enjoy some variation in their meals, unlike other packs who had to swallow their dissatisfaction and make do with whatever they were given.
Still, the improvement in supplies did little to stop the bullying of Beta Greg. In fact, he grew more resentful. He hated the other packs—and he hated Addison even more. In his eyes, everything was her fault.
He believed that if their former Alpha hadn’t died, none of this would have happened. He wouldn’t have been humiliated, and neither would the others. Not even once.
Beta Greg had turned a blind eye to everything Addison was doing for the pack, not because he wasn’t aware, but because he was drowning in his own suffering and didn’t have the time to understand others. Aside from his Alpha, only his Alpha and himself mattered; then, his pack and Addison were the last of his concerns.
Zion couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of guilt, knowing that his Beta had suffered in silence, and that he, too, had unknowingly allowed it to happen.
Perhaps that was why Greg never said anything—why he kept quiet about the bullying until Zion accidentally witnessed it himself. Maybe Greg didn’t want to burden his Alpha any further.
Zion was still young, after all, yet already facing off against seasoned Alphas who tried to intimidate and undermine him. If Greg had added his own pain to the growing pressure on Zion’s shoulders, it might have pushed him too far.
Zion’s wolf, Shura, was already volatile under stress. If pushed too hard, there was a risk of Shura going berserk—a dangerous loss of control that would damage Zion’s reputation even more and, worse, signal to others that he was unfit to lead. In their world, an Alpha who couldn’t control his wolf was considered weak, and that was the last thing Zion could afford to be.
So when Beta Greg entered his tent unannounced, Zion didn’t get angry or feel disrespected. Normally, even a beta was expected to ask permission before entering an alpha’s space, because a strict hierarchy demanded it.
But Zion had never been rigid with Greg. He saw him more as a close brother than just a subordinate, and because of that bond, he allowed Greg certain liberties that others weren’t granted.
This leniency gave Greg the confidence to make decisions on Zion’s behalf, even without explicit orders. It was also the reason he acted so boldly toward Addison. In Greg’s mind, he had placed himself above Addison in the chain of command—second only to Alpha Zion himself.
After settling onto his bed—just a pile of hay covered with heavy cloth laid out on the ground—Zion took the food Beta Greg handed him. Without wasting a moment, he began eating, determined not to leave a single crumb behind.
As he ate, he asked casually, “How are our warriors? Are they still being bothered by the others?”
His tone was calm, almost indifferent, but beneath the surface, Zion was already calculating. If anyone dared lay a hand on his people again, he would make sure they paid dearly for it.
Noticing his Alpha’s clenched jaw, Beta Greg let out a low chuckle. “Alpha Zion, have you already forgotten? You tore through werewolves and vampires alike the last time Shura went berserk.”
“After that, no one dared mess with us. Sure, they still keep their distance, but they’re terrified. Some even look like they’ll piss themselves when I so much as mention your name—hell, most can’t even meet your eyes.”
Greg spoke with a grin, as if he were gloating. And in a way, he was. What Zion didn’t know was that Greg had been the one spreading the rumors—exaggerating the tale of Shura’s rampage to terrifying proportions.
He relished the fear it caused, especially in those who had once bullied him. Watching them scramble and flee at the sound of Zion’s name gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction. It even allowed him to dish out a few beatings here and there, masked as payback. And the more it happened, the more he got used to it—addicted to it.
Now, no one dared to touch him. So, from Greg’s point of view, Zion’s concern was unnecessary—completely unfounded.
After chuckling softly, Beta Greg turned to leave. “Alpha Zion, I’ll let you rest for now. We’ll be extremely busy later.”
As soon as Greg exited the tent, Zion quietly finished the last of his meal and set the empty bowl near the entrance. He sat for a while, reviewing the reports and intel gathered about the enemy fortress. The information was dense, filled with strategies, layouts, and potential weak points. His mind remained sharp, but the weight of responsibility pressed heavily on him.
Eventually, he laid down on his side, his back facing the entrance, and closed his eyes in hopes of getting some rest. But sleep didn’t come easy. Every time his eyes shut, flashes of the vampires’ cruelty haunted him, along with the memories of the time Shura had gone berserk. The images clawed at his mind, turning what should have been rest into torment.
When he finally stirred, the sun was already dipping toward the horizon. Instead of feeling refreshed, he felt more drained than before. Outside his tent, Beta Greg was already waiting patiently. In the distance, werewolves from other packs rushed about, preparing for the imminent battle.
Soon, Zion stepped out of his tent, fully dressed and ready for battle. He joined Beta Greg and their warriors for a final briefing. Together, they went over the infiltration strategy Zion had devised—how to avoid the vampires’ detection, the route they’d take to reach the far side of the fortress, and the contingency plans in case things went wrong.
Just as they wrapped up the briefing, distant shouts echoed across the camp.
“They’re here! They’re here! Prepare for battle!”
The warning cries sent a ripple of tension through the werewolves as everyone rushed into position, the calm before the storm instantly shattered.