Matthew's Pov

　　My entire body screams for rest. There's a huge gash on my leg, running from my thigh down to my shin. Blood is still trickling, soaking the remainder of my pants, which are already torn in several places. The pain is maddening, each heartbeat feels like a hammer striking my wound. On top of that, I have a few broken ribs, and I can barely see with my swollen, throbbing left eye. The shadows of the night dance before me, further impairing my vision.

　　The return to the Night Howlers Pack territory is laden with frustration and suffering. The silence in the car is heavy as if the very forest around us is in mourning. The tall, shadowy trees rush past the window, their shapes distorted by my blurry gaze. How could I have been so foolish? So naive? I led my warriors, my werewolves, into a massacre. I feel the guilt gnawing at every fiber of my being, an unbearable weight on my already battered shoulders.

　　Steve's presence is a stark reminder of my error, my guilt. I still can't comprehend why he decided to betray us. What did the Night Howlers Pack lack that Steve thought he could find in the Moonshadow Pack?

　　The car jolts along the forest's dirt road, forcing me to stifle a groan of pain as my shoulder slams into the door. My beta, Liam, sits beside me, also trying to mask the pain from the car's jolt, but the tension in his face is evident, just like in mine. Meanwhile, we've confined Steve to the car's trunk, the only place he deserves to be.

　　"He could have ridden outside the car, on top, like a dead animal," Fenrir suggests inside me, his voice a growl of rage and hatred. His voice feeds my resentment.

　　"We don't have ropes for that... unfortunately," I reply bitterly.

　　"We should've asked Emma; maybe she had some," Fenrir jokes, and I let out a short laugh, which immediately turns into a groan of pain.

　　Emma, my mate. Her presence was undoubtedly a divine gift from the Moon Goddess. She was my salvation in the massacre we were enduring. Her Lycan form is too divine, a vision of strength and grace.

　　"Emma is the best mate the Moon Goddess could have destined for us, Matt," Fenrir declares proudly. The image of Emma transformed appears in my mind. An indomitable alpha warrior who fought beside me with a ferocity that left me in both awe and fear.

　　As chaotic as the battle was, Emma's presence could not be erased. The two of us fighting in Lycan form was exceptional, something I never want to repeat, to be honest. Because if we have to fight again, it means more lives could be lost along the way.

　　I lost so many good warriors today; the pain of each werewolf who died on the battlefield hurts even in my bones. I feel as if I am now carrying the weight of every lost soul, their voices whispering in the cold midnight winds.

　　"We're approaching our territory, Alpha Matthew," the driver announces, breaking the car's silence. His voice acts as an anchor for my thoughts, pulling me back to reality.

　　I nod and mutter a barely audible thank you. Minutes later, the car stops in front of the main house. My sweet home. The darkness still lingers in the starry sky, and the waning moon is barely visible now; in a few hours, the sun will rise.

　　Charlotte must still be sleeping and won't even know what happened last night and early this morning. I won't allow the horrors of battle to enter her imagination. Her innocence is something I must protect at all costs, a small ray of light in my turbulent life.

　　With the help of some warriors who stayed behind to defend the territory, I got out of the car with some difficulty. I can't even put my injured leg on the ground, and because of this, I have to limp inside. Every movement is torture.

　　"Bring the doctor and take Alpha Matthew to the infirmary," Liam orders the warriors, his voice firm and hoarse, his exhaustion evident.

　　The path to the infirmary has never seemed so long as it does today. Every step I take on the ground sends searing pain through my body from my injured leg. The adrenaline I felt throughout the battle suppressed my sensory nerves, but now that everything has calmed down and the adrenaline has worn off, it all comes in uncontrollable waves of pain. The corridor seems to stretch endlessly before me, each step a torment.

　　Once I'm laid on the infirmary bed, more warriors arrive with worse injuries than mine. Emma managed to quickly organize the triage of the injured on the battlefield. Her leadership is a beacon of hope amidst the darkness of the failure that was my plan.

　　"Our mate is sublime, Matthew," Fenrir comments proudly and lovingly.