After ending the call, Jas flung himself onto the bed, eyes lit with satisfaction. A grin lingered on his face as he stared at the ceiling, his thoughts racing with victory.
"Now they’ll finally understand... this city will be mine when I’m done!" he thought to himself, feeling powerful.
He was still basking in the afterglow of the news when a sudden knock on his door jolted him back. His expression changed, and he sat up quickly—he wasn’t expecting anyone.
"Co in. The door’s open," he called out, his eyes fixed on the door in curiosity.
To his surprise, it was his father who stepped in. The mont Jas saw him, his smile disappeared. His shoulders stiffened, and a frown crept onto his face.
"Good evening, Dad," Jas greeted, avoiding eye contact and turning his face away.
His father walked in, smiling gently, but said nothing. He didn’t even acknowledge Jas’s greeting.
The silence beca thick and uncomfortable. Jas grew irritated and finally turned to face him.
"Dad, why have you co to my room at this ti of day?" he asked coldly, his eyes narrowing.
His father’s deanor shifted instantly. The smile faded, replaced by a stern, almost hostile expression.
"Why have you chosen to break every rule and code of our great pack?!" he shouted, his voice booming in the room.
Jas blinked slowly, unaffected by the outburst. He t his father’s eyes with calm defiance.
"What are you even talking about?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.
"You know we never associate with anyone from the Blue Moon Pack! They are our enemies!" his father spat angrily. "And yet, here you are—chasing after one of them. Not just any girl, but Luna, the Alpha’s mate!"
Jas’s face darkened.
"I won’t be controlled by the outdated laws and traditions of this pack," he snapped. "I’ll be the next Alpha, and under my rule, things will change!"
"Listen to , son," his father warned, stepping closer. "If you don’t stop this foolishness, you’ll bring war to this pack... and destruction upon yourself!"
Without waiting for a reply, his father turned on his heel and stord out of the room.
Jas sat still, fists clenched and trembling in fury.
"Maria is mine. Nothing—and no one—will change that," he muttered under his breath, his eyes burning with resolve.
---
At the Blue Moon Pack, Bernard returned ho, storming through the door with a heavy black bag in hand. His face was dark and his posture tense. He didn’t speak to anyone, not even acknowledging the people he passed.
Victoria stepped into his path, concern clouding her face.
"Bernard, co back here!" she called after him. "What’s going on? And where is your father?"
"Mom, please," Bernard said, not stopping. "I need so ti alone... and Dad will be ho soon." His tone was soft but distant, and he disappeared up the stairs before she could say another word.
In his room, Bernard dumped the bag onto his table and let out a deep, frustrated breath. His mind was spiraling with questions.
’Who were those attackers? What kind of power did they possess?’
He pulled out the three CCTV cara discs and inserted the first one into his laptop. He watched quietly, but nothing significant appeared. The second—still nothing. Then he placed the third one in.
That was when he saw it—everything.
He watched, horrified, as their n were ambushed and brutally slaughtered. The attackers, dressed in black, moved with unnatural precision. No bullet touched them. Not even silver.
Bernard leaned back, his hands trembling.
"Oh my God... What exactly are these people?" he whispered.
His heart pounded. "This can’t be real. These... things only exist in stories—ancient myths."
He sat in silence, then muttered, "I have to call Dad. He needs to see this."
Just as he reached for his phone, a knock ca at the door.
He froze. Quietly, he swept the discs back into the bag and slipped into a corner of the room, pulling out a gun.
"Who’s there?" he asked sharply.
"It’s , Margaret," the maid replied calmly. "Your father asked that you co down to the living room right away, sir."
Bernard exhaled slowly, lowering the gun.
"Alright, tell him I’m on my way."
He hid the bag under the bed, tucked the gun away, and made his way downstairs.
To his surprise, the living room was full—his father, mother, the five surviving guards, and Smith were all gathered, seated and silent.
"What’s going on here?" Bernard asked, stunned.
"Co, sit down, son. We have a lot to discuss," Beta Gilbert said, motioning him over.
Bernard joined them, sitting beside his mother and glancing at his father with expectation.
"Mason and the four others escaped the attack with Smith," Beta Gilbert explained. "They wanted to tell everything, but I told them to wait until we were all together."
Bernard turned toward Mason, eyes full of questions.
"We were in the guardhouse, as usual," Mason began. "We knew neither you nor your father would knock at the main entrance, so we got suspicious when we heard the knock. I imdiately ordered everyone to stay alert."
"Then it happened," he continued. "A loud bang—the entire entrance was blown apart. They’d planted grenades around the door and walls. We were disoriented, but we tried to fight back..."
His voice grew quieter. "But these things... they weren’t human. They weren’t wolves either. Bullets didn’t touch them. Not even silver."
Bernard leaned forward. "Then how did you escape?"
"I called everyone nearby, urging them to retreat through the tunnel. But not all followed. So stayed to hold the line. Their last words were to protect Smith at all costs. So we ran. We could hear their screams as we escaped."
"No!" Beta Gilbert roared, surging forward and grabbing Mason by the collar. "That’s impossible! The Night Fighting Warriors are extinct—they don’t exist anymore!"
"They do, Dad," Bernard said firmly. "I saw them myself, just minutes ago."
His words stunned everyone into silence...
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