Chapter 12 - The Pack Renews
From the shadows of the pine trees, figures emerged.
Dozens of them.
They weren't Silas’s men.
They were the older generation of the Iron Wolves, led by Marcus.
They had followed the tire tracks, their conscience refusing to let them sit idle while Roman’s daughter was hunted down.
“Drop the gun,” Marcus said, his voice cold as ice, holding a heavy revolver pointed straight at the gunman’s chest.
Silas’s men looked around, realizing they were completely surrounded in the dark woods.
“Marcus!” Silas yelled, holding Lyra tightly in front of him like a shield. “You’re making a mistake. I am the President of this club!”
“Not anymore,” Marcus said. “You’re just a traitor.”
A tense standoff ensued.
Silas knew he couldn't win a shootout here, not with his men outnumbered.
But he had the ledger, and he had the girl.
“If any of you take a step, she dies,” Silas warned, pressing a small knife to Lyra’s neck.
Lyra looked at Marcus.
She didn't cry.
She didn't plead.
She simply raised her hand, showing Marcus her silver ring, and gave him a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
She remembered the code.
She knew where the vault was.
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And she knew how to end this.
“Let him take me,” Lyra called out, her voice clear. “To the Wolf’s Tomb. Let's finish this where it started.”
