THE TRIPLET ALPHAS ARE HERS

Chapter 113: The Hunt in the Snow

THE TRIPLET ALPHAS ARE HERS

Chapter 113: The Hunt in the Snow

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Chapter 113: The Hunt in the Snow

Kael arrived at Seren’s camp three days after the failed assassination.

He came with fifty soldiers; wolves and humans alike, and a fury so cold it seemed to freeze the air around him. Snow clung to his armour. His eyes were hollow from lack of sleep.

Seren met him at the edge of the camp. She didn’t speak. She just walked into his arms and held him.

"I told you not to come," she whispered.

"You told me. I didn’t listen." His voice was rough. "Thorne is still out there. I’m not leaving until he’s dead."

.

.

.

The hunt began at dawn. Seren decided to join Kael.

Kael had brought Theron’s best tracker, a wolf named Brenna who could read footprints in snow like words on a page. She found Thorne’s trail within an hour, leading deeper into the mountains.

"He’s heading for an old mining tunnel," Brenna said. "There’s a network of caves up there. He could hide for months."

"Then we flush him out." Kael turned to Seren. "You stay here."

"No."

"Seren..."

"I said no." She met his glare. "He wants me. He’ll come out if he sees me. I’m your bait."

Kael’s jaw tightened. His wolf raged behind his eyes. But he knew she was right.

"You stay behind me. At all times. If he gets past me, you run. No heroics."

"I make no promises."

"That’s what I’m afraid of."

.

.

.

They climbed for four hours.

They found Thorne’s rearguard at the base of the pass.

Five wolves, half-starved, half-frozen, huddled around a dying fire. They didn’t see Kael’s soldiers until it was too late.

"Surrender," Kael called out. "Thorne is finished. You don’t have to die for him."

One of the wolves stood. He was young, barely old enough to grow a beard. His hands trembled on his sword.

"He saved my life," the young wolf said. "At the border. I was trapped under a horse. He pulled me out."

"And then he burned villages. Killed children." Kael dismounted. "You can honour him by surrendering. Or you can die next to him. Your choice."

The young wolf looked at his companions. One by one, they laid down their weapons.

The young wolf was the last. His sword clattered to the snow.

"He’s in the third tunnel," he said. "The one with the red rock at the entrance. He’s alone. The others deserted last night."

Kael nodded. "Thank you."

He left the prisoners with a guard and pushed forward.

The snow deepened. The wind howled. The soldiers moved in a silent line, their breath misting in the cold. Brenna stopped at the mouth of a narrow canyon.

"He’s in there," she said. "The tunnel entrance is at the far end.

Kael signalled. The soldiers fanned out, blocking escape routes.

Seren walked to the front.

"Thorne!" she shouted. Her voice echoed off the canyon walls. "I know you’re in there. I came to give you one chance. Surrender, and you’ll stand trial. The council will decide your fate."

Silence.

Then a figure emerged from the shadows.

Thorne looked nothing like the polished general who had faced them in the throne room. His armour was cracked. His face was gaunt, covered in scratches and frostbite. But his eyes; his eyes were still burning.

"You came yourself," Thorne said. "I didn’t think you had the courage."

"I came to end this."

"You came to die." He drew his blade. "I lost everything because of you. My pack. My lieutenants. My honour. All I have left is your blood."

Seren didn’t flinch. "Your honour was gone the moment you burned villages full of children."

Thorne lunged.

.

.

.

Kael moved faster.

His sword met Thorne’s with a ring of steel that echoed through the canyon. The two men crashed together, blades singing, snow spraying around their boots.

"Stay back!" Kael roared at his soldiers. "He’s mine."

Thorne laughed, a cracked, desperate sound. "You think you can take me, pup? I was fighting wars before you were born."

"And I’ll be fighting them after you’re dead."

They circled each other. Thorne was slower than Kael remembered; he was starved and weakened. But he was still dangerous. His blade flickered in the grey light, seeking openings that Kael closed a heartbeat before they appeared.

Seren watched from twenty paces away, her hand on her dagger.

*Don’t,* she sent through the bond. *Don’t let him draw you in.*

*I’m not being drawn. I’m ending this.*

Kael feinted left, then dropped low, sweeping his blade toward Thorne’s knees. Thorne leaped over it and brought his sword down in a brutal arc. Kael caught it on his crossguard, the impact jarring his arms.

"You should have stayed in the south," Thorne hissed. "You should have let me die in that cave. Now you’ll die with me."

"I’m not dying today."

Kael shoved him back, then lunged.

His blade pierced Thorne’s shoulder, not fatal, but deep. Thorne roared and swung wildly, catching Kael across the ribs. The prince staggered, blood blooming through his armour.

"Kael!" Seren started forward.

"Stay back!" He waved her off, teeth gritted. "I said stay back." 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

Thorne circled, his sword arm weakening. Blood dripped from his wound onto the snow.

"You’re done," Kael said. "Your followers are gone. Your body is giving out. Surrender, and I’ll let you see a healer before your trial."

"I’d rather die."

"That can be arranged."

Thorne charged one last time; desperate, reckless, all his remaining strength behind the blow. Kael didn’t block. He stepped inside the arc of Thorne’s swing and drove his blade upward.

Through the ribs. Into the heart.

Thorne froze. His eyes went wide. His sword clattered to the ground.

"Tell Magnus I said hello," Kael whispered.

He pulled the blade free. Thorne crumpled into the snow.

.

.

.

Silence.

The northern followers stared at their fallen leader. They bowed to Kael.

Seren ran to him. His ribs were bleeding, his face was pale, but he was standing. He was alive.

"You’re an idiot," she said, pressing her hands against his wound.

"I’m a living idiot." He winced but managed a smile. "That’s what matters."

The soldiers moved in to secure the prisoners. Brenna knelt beside Thorne’s body, checking for a pulse. She shook her head.

"He’s gone."

Seren looked down at the man who had terrorized the north. He seemed smaller in death. Older. Just a wolf who had loved the wrong alpha and couldn’t let go.

"Burn the body," she said. "Spread the ashes where no one will find them."

.

.

.

That night, the camp burned with celebration.

Soldiers who had marched north expecting a long war toasted Kael’s name. Villagers who had lived in fear of Thorne wept with relief. Gracy brought out barrels of ale that she had been saving for a special occasion.

Seren sat apart from the noise, bandaging Kael’s ribs by firelight.

"It’s over," she said.

"It’s over." He caught her hand. "The north can heal now. No more Thorne. No more raids. Just the slow work of building something new."

"You almost died."

"I didn’t." He pulled her closer. "Because you were here. Because the bond kept me grounded. Because I had something to live for."

She kissed him, soft at first, then fierce.

"Don’t scare me like that again."

"I make no promises."

"That’s what I’m afraid of."

Through the bond, she felt Aeron’s relief and Theron’s quiet satisfaction. The shadow in the north was gone.

Now they could focus on the shadows closer to home.

.

.

Seren returned back to the northern village with the news.

The villagers watched her in awe. They had heard the news too.

"Thorne is dead," Seren announced. "The north is free."

Silence. Then a woman began to weep. Then another. Then the whole village was crying, laughing, embracing.

An old man approached Seren. He was bent, weathered, his hands rough from a lifetime of labour.

"I cursed your name," he said. "When Magnus fell, I cursed the crown. I thought you were all the same."

"And now?"

"Now I have blankets. And food. And a future." He took her hand. "You kept your word. You came. You helped. You didn’t abandon us."

Seren squeezed his hand. "I was once like you. Invisible. Powerless. I promised myself I would never forget."

"You haven’t."

That night, Seren sat by the fire with Lysa and Gracy.

The aid mission was nearly complete. Every village on the border had received supplies. Every survivor had been offered amnesty. The north was still fragile, still fractured, but it was no longer bleeding.

"When do you want to leave?" Gracy asked.

"Tomorrow. Kael will be marching south with the prisoners. I need to be there when they’re processed."

"And the traitor? The one who warned Thorne?"

Seren’s face hardened. "Theron is close. He’ll find them."

Gracy nodded. "The north will remember this, Your Highness. The aid. The mercy. The queen who came in person."

"That’s not why I came."

"I know." Gracy stood. "That’s why the north will remember."

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.

.

Kael stayed at Seren’s camp..

His armour was still streaked with Thorne’s blood. His ribs were still bandaged. But his eyes were bright, alive.

Seren met him at the edge of the firelight. She didn’t speak. She just walked into his arms and held him.

"It’s over," he said.

"It’s over." She pulled back to look at him. "You’re hurt."

"I’ll heal."

"You always say that."

"Because it’s always true."

They walked to the fire together, snow falling around them. The soldiers gave them space, respecting the moment.

Lysa brought them both mugs of hot cider. Even Captain Voss managed a nod of respect.

"One war down," Lysa said.

"One of many," Seren replied. "But tonight, we rest."

.

.

Through the bond, the triplets’ presence hummed.

Aeron was already planning the next council meeting. Theron was still hunting the traitor. But for one night, they allowed themselves to breathe.

*Come home,* Aeron sent.

*Soon,* Seren replied.

*With Kael.*

*With Kael.*

The bond warmed. The fire crackled. The snow kept falling.

Tonight, they let themselves feel the weight of what they had won.

And the shadow of what still wait

The next morning, Kael sent word south: *Thorne is dead. The north is ours.*

Aeron’s reply came within hours: *Come home. Both of you. We have a traitor to find.*

Seren looked at the mountains one last time. Snow was falling, covering the battlefield, covering the blood. The north would remember this winter for generations.

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