The Lost Pack (Paige) novel Chapter 224

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** Callen’s POV **

The first thing feel isn’t fear. It’s clarity.

The moment they cross our boundary, something inside me locks into place. The constant motion that used to define me goes quiet, like the world finally stopped rattling long enough for me to hear what matters.

Paige.

She stiffens beside me, breath catching just once, and I’m already moving closer, my hand brushing her wrist, grounding without caging. The bond hums low and steady, not demanding, not urgent… ready.

“They’re at the edge,” she says quietly.

Leo’s voice cuts clean through the pack link before the first trip alarm sounds.

“All units. Phase one. Hold the line.”

There’s no raised voice, no hesitation, just calm instruction. I realise then it’s us doing this. Paige doesn’t just steady us, and we don’t just steady her; together, we steady the whole pack. It hits me that this isn’t command, and it isn’t dominance. It’s gravity. Everything orbits her now… the pack, the land, even us… pulled inward not by force, but by faith in her. Our Goddess.

We’re pulled back, tight and close, not retreating so muchas drawing the circle smaller. Ronnie thinks Paige will be stronger this way. His theory is simple: if we let the hunters come to us, she won’t have to cast her power across miles of forest. She can hold it dense, controlled, lethal. It makes sense.

Plus, out there scattered through the trees, they’d have the advantage. Rifles with night vision scopes, distance, shadows to hide in. They could bleed us slowly, pick us off- one by one while we chased ghosts. We don’t give them that.

We make them step onto our land, into our space, where Paige doesn’t need to reach, only anchor. Where we don’t hunt blindly through the dark, but stand together and let them come to us.

If they want a fight, they don’t get it on their terms. They get it on ours. Paige doesn’t argue about the plan. She doesn’t need to. I feel her agreeing with it on a deeper level, like the land itself has already decided this is where the stand will be made, and we’re simply catching up.

Wolves break from cover in coordinated bursts. This isn’t chaos. It’s lines tightening, angles closing, pressure applied exactly where it’s needed.

The first hunter breaches the trees and dies before his feet fully hit the grass. Our own marksmen picking the first of them off with deadly precision.

I don’t think. I move.Bones snap and shift as I surge forward, claws tearing through fabric, flesh, intent. There’s no hesitation, no anger, no wasted motion, just a clean end to a threat that never belonged here.

More follow. They come armed, trained, moving with the confidence of men who think numbers and preparation will save them. They’re wrong.

“Do not pursue,” Leo orders. “Hold the boundary.”

They’re baiting us.

I skid to a halt beside Remy as another hunter falls hard under his claws, blood steaming in the cool night air.

“Second wave building,” he snarls. “They’re watching how we respond.”

“Let them watch,” I growl back.

Paige’s presence pulses, her awareness stretching outward, and I feel it through the bond like a tightening coil, not flaring or burning yet, just focused. It’s different this time. Not searching or flaring. It feels like something ancient opening its eyes and deciding what does and does not belong.

“They’re testing response time,” she says. “Only a part of them.”

Leo responds instantly. “Collapse inward. Draw them onto the ground we chose.”The forest becomes a weapon.

We fall back just enough to look vulnerable, just enough to invite pursuit. Hunters push forward, confidence spiking, and then wolves hit from angles no human body can track as the Twiceborn seemingly appear from nowhere.

I take down two more ih quick succession, claws ripping, teeth snapping, the taste of blood sharp and metallic. I don’t linger. I don’t chase. I strike, reposition, strike again.

This isn’t rage. It’s purpose.

A howl of pain rings out behind me, and I spin just in time to see one of our enforcers go down hard, blood pooling beneath him.

“Healer!” someone yells.

Jake is there in seconds.

He drops to his knees beside the injured wolf, hands glowing faintly as he works, jaw clenched so tight I can hear his teeth grind. Another healer slides in beside him, bodies snapping into place as they make a shield of wolves around them.

Jake doesn’t look up. He doesn’t flinch as the two men carry the injured wolf to the cabin whilst he continues to heal him on the move.

I feel the tension in him like a pulled wire… the instinct to fight screaming through every nerve, overridden by choice. By trust in Leo’s call.

Quiet falls over the forest. Either they’re retreating, or preparing for the next wave.

Then, the bond spikes sharp and cold, and I’m at Paige’s side before she can speak, hands on her shoulders, forehead pressed to hers. Her light pulses with barely contained control as she battles to hold it.

“They’re pushing,” she says through clenched teeth. “More of them, at least three groups. I don’t think I can reach them all, not yet. I can try, but…”

Her light strains against its limits, dense enough that it hurts to feel through the bond. She’s not losing control; she’s containing it. And suddenly I understand: if she lets go too soon, there won’t be a battlefield left to stand on.