The Apocalyptic Queen's Werewolf Journey (Thora and Darius) novel Chapter 71

**Shadows Hearts by Joseph King**
**Chapter 71: The Ones Who Pick Up the Guns**

In the dimly lit room, all eyes converged on Thora, a silent intensity enveloping the air. It was only then that the others noticed the stark reality of her academy uniform—saturated with the deep crimson of blood, a haunting reminder of the chaos that had unfolded.

Thora stood tall, exuding an aura of authority that was both compelling and serene. Her voice resonated with a calm conviction that seemed to cut through the tension like a knife.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through the veins of the boys present, igniting a primal instinct within them. Their hearts raced, and their hands twitched with an almost uncontrollable urge to seize the weapons strewn across the floor.

Harvey, ever the bold one, was the first to break from the crowd, stepping forward with a determined stride. Close on his heels was Ashton, his expression mirroring Harvey’s resolve.

Each of them found a weapon that felt right in their grasp, fingers wrapping around the cool metal as they tightened their grips. Their eyes were fixed on Thora, burning with an unquenchable fire—a fire that spoke of loyalty and trust, forged in the crucible of shared experiences.

They had witnessed Thora’s capabilities firsthand; she was a force to be reckoned with, and their faith in her was unwavering. Yet, beneath that trust lay a flicker of doubt, especially from the noble-born werewolf heirs who had been sheltered from the harsh realities of the world. Raised in opulence, many had never even held a firearm, let alone faced the merciless onslaught of mercenaries in life-or-death confrontations.

“Why are you sending us all to our deaths? What makes you think we should trust you?” Sophia’s voice cut through the air, laced with disdain. Her animosity toward Thora flared as she spoke, her words echoing the concerns of the timid students around her.

A chorus of agreement followed her bold declaration.

“Yeah, why should we believe her?”

“Exactly! This is nothing short of suicide.”

Before Thora could articulate a response, Shirley stepped forward, her demeanor shifting dramatically. The barrel of her gun was aimed squarely at Sophia, a clear warning that sent shivers down the spines of those nearby.

Sophia and a few others gasped, retreating hastily, their faces pale with fear.

“Why are you doing this?” one of them stammered, eyes wide with confusion.

Shirley’s laughter was cold and devoid of warmth as she glanced at the scattered weapons. “These? Thora took them from the mercenaries’ bodies. She’s the one who disarmed every bomb they planted around the academy. If it weren’t for her, you’d all be nothing but ashes by now. Still think she’s wrong?”

Despite her youthful appearance, with her twin tails and soft features, Shirley radiated an energy that was sharp and lethal, tinged with the promise of violence.

Thora shot her a quick glance, and only then did Shirley lower her weapon slightly, though the tension in her posture remained palpable, leaving everyone on edge.

Silence enveloped the room, yet Thora’s unspoken command was a force that could not be ignored.

At that moment, a few sons of military werewolf families emerged from the crowd, stepping forward with a newfound sense of purpose. Two of them had crossed paths with Thora at the shooting range before, and now, as they regarded her composed demeanor, they felt an unexpected surge of respect. In their eyes, she stood taller than even Harvey.

Her calm, resolute expression bore the weight of leadership, invoking a sense of duty that resonated deeply within them.

They bent down to pick up rifles from the floor, checking the chambers with the practiced ease of those accustomed to handling firearms.

Yet, one boy, sporting thick glasses, hesitated, his body trembling as he shuffled forward. He bent down to grab a pistol, but before he could grasp it, Thora snatched it up herself.

“I…” He froze, eyes wide as fear and confusion swirled within him.

Thora’s lips curled into a smirk, her tone both cutting and resolute. “I won’t send someone who can’t even fire a gun into battle.”

Embarrassment washed over the boy, turning his cheeks a bright shade of crimson.

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