She Was Meant to Be Sacrificed for the Pack — Until Three Alphas Fought for Her

Three days had passed since the devastating siege on the Iron Citadel. The Great Hall was partially repaired, but the heavy atmosphere of war hung thick over the fortress.

Iris sat at the head of the massive obsidian war table in the citadel’s underground command room. Around her sat the four Alphas—Fenrir, Kam, Oren, and Kaelen—along with several of their most trusted military commanders.

The mood was grim. The interrogation of the captured mercenaries had confirmed the worst: the Collector was merely a middleman for a secretive, elite syndicate known as The Obsidian Syndicate, composed of high-ranking council members and corrupted Alphas from across all four major territories.

"They have spies in every capital," Oren growled, slamming his fist onto the stone table, rattling the iron map markers. "Which means we cannot trust any border patrol or regional governor until we flush the traitors out."

Kaelen leaned back in his heavy iron chair, his scarred arms crossed over his chest. His amber eyes remained fixed on Iris, who sat quietly listening at the head of the table. "The syndicate isn't just hunting her for power," Kaelen rumbled, his voice deep and steady. "They want to use her as a living catalyst. A Bridge Omega with four active bonds can unlock the ancient seal beneath the Frostpeak Mountains—a vault containing enough dark magic to enslave every pack on the continent."

Iris felt a cold shiver run down her spine. "A vault? What is hidden beneath Frostpeak?"

Fenrir turned to her, his expression softening slightly despite the harshness of the war room. "Centuries ago, the first Alphas locked away an ancient, corrupted entity that fed on pack blood. The seal can only be broken by the pure, uncorrupted bloodline of a multi-bonded Bridge Omega."

"Which means," Kam added, his silver eyes flashing with sharp calculation, "every time one of us bonded with you, your power awakened further. You are glowing stronger, Iris. And the syndicate knows that once the fourth bond fully settled with Kaelen, your blood reached its maximum potency."

Iris looked down at her hands. She could actually feel it now—a warm, pulsing hum beneath her skin, like liquid starlight waiting to burst free. When she had healed Kam days ago, it hadn't just been adrenaline; it was this vast, terrifying well of energy flowing through her veins.

"So what do we do?" Iris asked, looking up bravely to meet Fenrir’s gaze. "Do we sit here and wait for them to attack again?"

"No," Fenrir said, standing up so abruptly his heavy chair scraped loudly against the stone floor. His golden eyes burned with an icy, tactical brilliance. "We take the fight to them. We draw out the head of the syndicate by using the oldest trick in the book."

Oren raised an eyebrow, a dangerous grin spreading across his rugged face. "Bait."

"Exactly," Fenrir confirmed. "We announce a formal emergency summit at the neutral territory of Whispering Pines, claiming that Iris’s fourth bond failed and she is weakened. The traitor within the high council will take the bait to capture her themselves."

Kaelen stood up beside Fenrir, the heavy iron chains around his neck clinking softly. "And when they walk into the trap, we crush them."

Iris swallowed hard, realizing the immense danger of the plan. She was going to be the bait in a trap set for the most dangerous, hidden syndicate in the world.

Yet, looking at the four towering Alphas standing around her—each bearing the scars of battle, yet united by an unbreakable, fierce devotion to protect her—Iris felt a strange surge of courage.