Emerson all but stumbled into his tent, blood leaking from his wounds. They'd taken hit after hit over the past three months. No matter how many of those bastards they managed to kill, more arrived in their place. Their numbers were starting to dwindle, and Emerson wasn't how much longer they could last before they finally broke.

More than one of his wounds needed stitching, but the tent set up as an infirmary was already packed with wolves who needed more attention than he. Emerson would just have to patch himself up like he had done many times over the months they'd been there.

He pulled out his first-aid kit from under his bed and opened it. He grabbed a needle, thread, bandages, and disinfectant. He started by cleaning his wounds and dousing the needle and thread in it as well. Then very carefully, he threaded the needle through his skin.

It took longer than if a doctor had stitched him up, but that may have been because there were times the pain was too great, and he had to stop. He bandaged himself up and put away the supplies. He washed his hands clean in a bowl of water.

Emerson pulled on some clean clothes and shoes, then stepped out of his tent. He joined the other Alphas in the central tent. He grabbed some of the food that had been laid out and a glass of water and took his seat. He chugged his water before beginning to eat.

"How many casualties this time?"

"Fifty."

They shared a moment of silent, several Alphas rubbing their temples. They had taken too many hits, lost too many wolves. And while their force was dwindling, it appeared the Rogues hadn't suffered any major loss as they had.

Lincoln was the first to speak, "This mess would have never had happened if Emerson hadn't let his father go. The Rogues wouldn't have their leader and I could be home with my mate and children, instead of being here, not knowing if I'm ever going to see them again."

"You say that as if this whole thing is all my fault. I didn't make my father go crazy," Emerson countered, "I didn't make him do this. I didn't tell him to rally the Rouges and declare war with the North American Packs. I wish nothing more than him to be dead, so I can be with my mate without fearing for our lives."

"And yet you did let him slip through your fingers," Reid leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table. "He escaped your prison because you can't keep your guards loyal to you."

Emerson's jaw clenched. "They chose their fate and they have been dealt with."

Ronan spoke before any other Alpha had a chance to open their mouth. "You say that this whole war is Emerson's fault because his father escaped his cell? Well, what if he hadn't? what if Benjamin had been brought to justice and killed for treason? Do you think the Rogues would have just quietly gone away? No, they know what they can do. Without Benjamin, someone else would have taken his spot and we would still be here, fighting an underestimated enemy. So how about you stop throwing blame around and actually help make a plan to stop these dogs?"

"What would you have us do?" Weston exclaimed. "What? Because we have tried everything and yet they keep winning! In the last war, we were at least getting close by this time!"

"Yes, that was the last war. The Rogues have evolved and learned. They are smarter, faster, and stronger than they have ever been." Xavier slammed his fists on the table. "So of course, we haven't gotten anywhere! We've been using all our tactics and strategies from last time! we need to do something new, something they won't expect."

"And what exactly are you suggesting?" Sebastian asked, looking slightly intrigued and mostly annoyed.

"They're expecting us to attempt to flush them out. Find their camp and wipe them all out. They lay fake trails and lead us all different directions. So instead of trying to find them, let them come to us. we draw them out into the open, on our grounds, where we have the upper hand. The more wins we get the more frustrated they will get, and they will make mistakes, ones that won't go unnoticed. We will find them and end their threat once and for all."

Lincoln nodded thoughtfully. "It could work."

"I say that we continue sending scouts out but gradually decrease the number that goes out, make it appear as if we're slowly giving up. That way Benjamin doesn't get suspicious of us. it'll make them cocky and arrogant, which will lead to mistakes quicker," Ronan amended.

Emerson nodded. "The next time we send out scouts we'll decrease it by one scouting party. And continue doing so until it becomes pointless to do so."

"Do you know how much time this plan is going to take?" Reid exclaimed.

"I would rather this last years and win than this take only a few weeks and lose everything!" Emerson stared him down. "We all want to go home to our families and our Pack! But I will not go back until I no longer fear that the moment I turn my back, a Rogue is going to murder my mate!"

"You don't think I fear the same thing! The only reason that I am here is that your messed up family got us all into this mess! I could be at home with my children and instead, I 'm here, wondering if I'm ever going to them again!"

"Do you think that I don't understand? All I want is to go home with my mate! I want to live so I can have children with her! I'm sorry that my father's been fucked up in the head ever since he lost his mate, but you cannot blame that on me! I didn't turn him into the way he is today. I didn't torture him or brainwash him into attacking all of us, into murdering Abigail! What's done is done. There's no going back. So can we focus on the future and fixing everything instead of constantly bringing up everything that's apparently my fault?"

"Emerson's right," Zachary's voice cut through the tent. "There's nothing we can do to change the past. What's done is done. We need to move forward and focus on the task at hand. This war. We have our game plan. We need to hash out all the details, make sure there's no way that we will lose. It's going to take time, but we have to do it gradually, or else Benjamin will get suspicious. We cannot let him discover our plan or we will never see our loved ones again. So are we done the fighting?" When no one answered, he smiled. "Good, let's get to work."

Before they were able to start, the siren sounded, signally Rogues were marching in. Several Alphas muttered a curse before exiting the tent. They were met by scouts.

"Where are they?"

"East, almost to the lake. There's at least five hundred, maybe more. Johnson has already taken his team out to throw them off our tracks."

"Good. Tell Gage and Braxton to assemble our men. Get them ready and on the front line as fast as we can afford."

"Yes, Alpha."

The scouts ran off to inform them.

"Who's turn is it this time to go?" Weston asked their group.

"Lincoln, Sebastian, and Reid."

They had a rock, paper scissors tournament to decide the rotation the Alphas would go in to go to battle. It was amusing how intense they all got when it came to the silly little game. Grown men arguing about who cheated at a child's game.

"Emerson is going in my place," Lincoln said.

"What?'

"We made a bet last week and I lost," Emerson said as if that was a good explanation.

They all looked at the two, waiting for them to go into further detail, but neither did. Emerson just walked away to get ready for the battle. He hoped his previous wounds were healed enough.

He met Epsilon gathered and joined the two generals at the front. They only took enough wolves to meet the forces that they were facing. The rest would stay at the camp, in case anymore Rogues attempted to attack them.

There was no point in a pep talk. They knew their roles, they knew what they were doing.

With a silent command, they stripped and shifted. They were off at a run, towards the Rouges. It didn't take them long to find their enemies. They were stinking up the entire forest.

The three Alphas engaged the Rogues first, their wolves following suit. There was clashes of fur, blood spilling on the forest floor. Chunks of fur were pulled out and tossed to the ground. Bodies began to drop. There wasn't time to mourn their dead. They just had to keep fighting to survive. There was no stopping until the battle was over.

In the end, their forces were able to drive the Rogues back to the hole they crawled out of. The wolves grabbed their dead, leaving the Rogue scum. They would come back to collect them once they were gone. And they were honorable enough to let them collect their dead Rogues.

With the dead and the incapacitated in their grip, they ran back to their camp, to mourn those they lost and to heal their wounds.