Chapter 037: The Storm Gathering

Ava's POV

I hadn't felt since the evening we faced the Raven, the tension in the air thickens. Lyra's admission had rocked us all and exposed the extent of the Raven's power even following her capture. Now, armed with Lyra's intel, we were entering enemy territory in search of the surviving cells of her adherents.

Jackson and I had ready the pack for this, but I could not ignore the pulse of discomfort that persisted. Removing a visible menace differed from confronting the shadow it left behind, still alive in the brains of people she had perverted.

Jackson, Leo, Lyra, and I assembled among our most reliable fighters as the first light of dawn broke, prepared to leave. Lyra's face was strained, her eyes ablaze with a will that had replaced her previous hesitation. She had chosen something that had more weight than any of us completely realized.

Jackson surveyed the assembled group, his voice forceful but understated. We end this once and for once today. We are not merely going to stop a few stragglers. Here we are to demolish the final bits of her impact. Remain vigilant, rely on one another, and keep in mind the person we are defending.

The gathering murmured agreement, and as we got ready to meet what lay ahead, a fresh vitality surged through us. I gave Jackson a quick look; the tacit trust between us was building my determination.

Lyra led us along paths off the major paths as we entered the woodland, guiding us with trained familiarity. Every sound, every change in the trees, every stride into the center of the Raven's secret network felt enhanced.

Lyra stopped at last, pointing toward a quiet clearing ahead. She signaled stillness. Between the woods, a weak glow flashed, and I heard gentle voices floating toward us.

She said, her voice taut with strain, "They're here." "This is among their venues for meetings. Usually a handful at a time, they avoid suspicion by not gathering in great numbers.

Jackson nodded, telling the fighters to fan out and arrange themselves so as to round the clearing. Before he turned to face me, his hand found mine, a grounding action. Ava, keep close. We have no idea what their capacity is.

My pulse thumping as we approached, I nodded. The clearing opened up, showing a small gathering gathered around a fire with flickering faces in the low light. Their words were too low to discern, but their posture suggested they were on edge, cautious of even their own shadows. They were speaking gently.

Jackson moved forward with a strong presence and a voice that boomed over the clearing. "It's finished." Nobody gets injured when you stand down.

The gang jerked to their feet, eyes wide with a mix of terror and defiance. One of them, a towering man with a scar running down his cheek, snorted and stepped forward.

And why ought we pay attention to you? He objected, his voice tinged with scorn. "The Raven handed us freedom—freedom from your rules, from this so-called unity you cling to."

Though I felt a flash of wrath, I restrained myself since we had to approach this gently. Jackson looked at the man with unflinching consistency.

"Freedom?," he said, his voice cool yet sharp. She produced anarchy. She made use of you as she did every other. You were arguing for her vision, her control, not for yourselves.

The man's sneer wavered, but he held his ground, looking for encouragement from his friends. She promised us something better, something outside the purview of this pack.

"Control??" Lyra's words cracked through, her eyes ablaze with rage. She guided all of us, including you. She manipulated our doubts and twisted our allegiance to split the only family we have.

The man's eyes turned to Lyra, recognition sparking there. He retreated, his confidence erasing, but his remarks were keen. Lyra, you let her down. You picked them over us.”

Lyra stood tall, her voice steady. "I went with the pack. I chose loyalty, not manipulation. She lied to us, and you’re sticking to that lie.”

For a tense moment, the clearing fell silent, the weight of her words falling over the assembly. The man turned away, his expression changing from wrath to something more delicate as though he was negotiating the truth he had been escaping from.

Jackson grabbed the chance and spoke softly to them. "You have no more fighting to do. If you are ready to once more trust it, this is your house. But this insurrection finishes here. We cannot let the Raven's influence split us any more.

The gang looked at one another warily, the fight draining their faces. They lowered their firearms one by one, eyes showing resignation. The man with the scar dropped his posture, his shoulders drooping, yet he shot one last, rebellious gaze at Lyra.

Jackson signaled the fighters to enter, safeguarding the gathering without resorting to violence. As I watched them obey, the tension released and relief flooded over me as we led them back toward the packhouse, where they would be offered a decision—reintegrate or depart.

Lyra walked next to me as we returned, her countenance a mixture of guilt and relief.

Quietly realizing the weight of the decision she had made, "you did well."

She nodded, a trace of melancholy in her gaze. "I simply wish for... I wish it hadn't arrived at this. I felt I was doing something important, something that counted.

You were misled, I said softly. "But the strength to come back, to face this—that matters."

She gave a little, appreciative smile, and for the first time I sensed calm on her face. After that, we strolled silently; the stillness of the forest enveloped the gaps between us, a sense of closure descending onto the trail.

Jackson greeted the pack and went over the events of the day as we got back to the packhouse. His tone was hopeful, his remarks consistent as he convinced them the worst was past. The pack listened; their faces combined relief with unity. Now, we would heal together, having shared the storm.

Jackson looked to me as the throng scattered, his eyes softening as he grabbed my hand. "Thank you, Ava." None of this would have been conceivable without you.

I grabbed his palm, the link between us grounding me filled me with a warmth that drove away the last shadows. Jackson, we worked on this together. And we will guide them together.

A rare moment of vulnerability between us, he drew me into his arms and I felt the weight of the preceding few months lift to be replaced by a consistent, mounting hope.

Later, I felt a great calm come over me as we stood on the packhouse balcony seeing the first stars show up in the heavens. More importantly, our union had emerged stronger, bound by trust, resiliency, and the shared challenges we had surmounted; the shadow of the Raven had been thrown aside and her revolt repressed.

There would not be a simple road forward. Challenges, moments of uncertainty, and the odd hint of the past would abound. But I knew, with every thread of my existence,

we were ready.

We would lead the group into fresh dawn together.