Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 320: No One Gets Left Behind

"Werewolves are born to fight—to defend what is ours, to protect what we love—who we love!" Charna’s voice thundered through the clearing, her eyes blazing with conviction. She raised her fist high, a fierce rallying cry that sent a surge of energy through the gathered pack.

Morgan, heart pounding, scanned the faces around her. Fear tightened her chest as she saw the fire in their eyes, the way they clenched their fists, already swayed by Charna’s passion. Desperate, she stepped forward.

"There are other ways to protect our loved ones," she argued, her voice urgent. "Charging into war isn’t the only answer! Abandoning our home—everything we’ve rebuilt after so much loss—is reckless. We’ve fought too hard to throw it all away."

But the pack had already chosen their leader.

"The world is ending, Morgan," someone muttered.

"What’s the point of staying if everything is going to burn?" another scoffed.

Another werewolf stepped forward, eyes dark with resolve. "I won’t die hiding. If this is the end, then I’ll meet it with my teeth bared and my claws ready. If I fall, it will be for something that matters—my family, my home."

A murmur of agreement swept through the pack.

Morgan’s stomach twisted. She had lost them.

"You can stay and protect your home," Warren said, his voice steady but not unkind. He knew Morgan’s fear—recognized it because he had once felt it himself.

Growing up as a werewolf, everyone had expected him to be fearless, to charge into battle without question. But courage wasn’t so simple. Some things were terrifying, no matter how strong you were. He understood that.

Warren wouldn’t call himself a coward. He was a pragmatist—someone who avoided conflict whenever possible. He had no interest in proving his strength, no desire for glory. Peace had always mattered more to him than battle.

So when Thorin’s request for help arrived, he hadn’t answered right away. Instead, he had stood in front of the mirror, staring at his own reflection—only to see the faces of his family staring back at him.

There was Sullivan, and there was Nina. The sharp-tongued, domineering Nina, who never missed a chance to remind him how disappointing it was to have a brother like him.

Unlike Sullivan, who wielded his strength effortlessly, Warren had never excelled physically. To Nina, he had often seemed more a liability than an asset.

Yet despite her criticisms, she had always been there. Always the first to pull him out of trouble, to shield him when he stumbled. He knew it wasn’t out of softness, but pride—for the sake of the family’s reputation.

And yet, he had been saved by her. Over and over again.

The family Nina had fought so hard to protect, to elevate, had been wiped out in a single, cruel stroke. The Zacharia empire would never return to its former glory. That dream was long dead.

But Thorin wasn’t.

Warren couldn’t rebuild the past, but he could protect what little remained. That was enough.

With a sharp exhale, Warren smacked himself awake and pushed out of bed. The decision was made. He would help his nephew. That was why he was here.

Facing the fired-up werewolves, Warren met their burning gazes. "Someone needs to stay behind—to make sure there’s still a home left when we return."

It was his way of letting Morgan keep her pride. But instead, it had the opposite effect.

Rather than accepting his words as a mercy, Morgan felt the sting of humiliation. She knew war was too big for her—too terrifying—but the thought of staying behind, sheltered, while the rest of the pack risked their lives on the battlefield? That was unbearable.

Fear still gripped her, but she refused to let it define her. She would not cower in Wintertooth while her friends fought to protect the world.

"Forget it!" Morgan shouted. "Even if another pack raids our home while we’re away, we can take it back. We’re the Wintertooth pack! We’re fearless, and we will reclaim what’s ours!"

She turned her shame into fuel, letting it ignite something fiercer inside her. The fear was still there, clawing at her insides, but her will burned hotter.

What was so terrifying about war? Being attacked? Then she would strike first. The threat of a blind spot? Then she would watch her back.

Besides, she wasn’t alone. She trusted her comrades—trusted that if she faltered, they would be there. No one in the Wintertooth pack would let her fall.

Morgan pounded a fist against her chest, gritting her teeth. Her thin eyebrows drew together as she squinted, a low growl rumbling in her throat. Determination blazed in her eyes.

"We’re the Wintertooth pack! And if our Alpha tells us to move, we move! No one gets left behind. Unity is in our blood!"

It was shocking. Of all the werewolves, Morgan was the last one Trudy had expected to rally the pack. And yet, here she was—shouting the loudest, standing at the frontlines of a fight that would decide the fate of the world.

It all started with the vampires.

Given the deep-rooted animosity between their kind—and Morgan’s personal history with Riona—Trudy had been certain she would refuse to help. But now, none of that mattered.

Morgan’s loyalty burned bright, and she had chosen to fight. And in war, an extra hand meant everything.

"When do we leave?" Morgan asked.

"Now," Warren said.

The Wintertooth pack was, at its core, a force of nature—wild, untamed predators. They hunted as they traveled, needing only the presence of prey to sustain them. No preparations, no delays. The moment the decision was made, they left.

Warren led the way toward the Kingdom of Eira, his guards positioned at the rear to shield the pack from behind. They took turns keeping watch through the night and worked seamlessly together during hunts. If not for the Zacharias harassing Thorin and the Wintertooth pack in the past, they might have made exceptional allies.

Through discipline and cooperation, they finally reached the outskirts of Eira. But the moment they set foot in the city, a chilling realization struck them.

It was empty.

At this hour, the streets should have been alive—vampires conducting their nightly routines, moving through the shadows. But the town square was a ghost of what it should have been.

Rotten vegetables lay scattered across the stone pavement. Torn posters flapped weakly in the wind. Newspapers, abandoned and crumpled, drifted along the ground, carried by sluggish gusts.

Fearing the worst—that the kingdom had already fallen—they hurried toward the royal palace. The gates stood wide open, unguarded. Not a single soldier was in sight. The eerie silence only deepened their unease. frёewebηovel.cѳm

With no one there to grant them entry, they pushed forward without permission. Then, they heard it.

A noise.