Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 222

Third person POV

The war room of Enzo’s fortress was alive with noise, yet heavy with dread. The long oak table in the center was covered with maps, weapons, herbs, and scrolls, but the air carried the tension of a storm waiting to break. Enzo stood at the head of the table, his arms folded, his piercing eyes locked on the glowing map Elias had spread out before them.

The boy’s small fingers traced symbols in the parchment, lines of light etching themselves across the surface wherever he touched. His brothers—Ash, Kael, and Atlas—watched in silence as the child drew with unnatural precision, as though his hand were guided by something unseen.

“There,” Elias whispered, pointing to a jagged cliff sketched in glowing strokes. “That’s the first trap. If you step into this path, the ground will collapse beneath you. Spikes wait at the bottom. They’ve covered it with illusions, so it looks like flat stone, but it isn’t. Mama is beyond it. I saw it.”

Ash leaned closer, his brow furrowed. “How do you know this?”

“I saw it in my vision,” Elias said without looking up. His eyes shone with the same light that illuminated the map. “I walked the path myself, but I wasn’t me—I was one of their guards. I felt the fear, the traps, the plans. He doesn’t know I can see it all.”

Enzo’s jaw clenched, his hand tightening into a fist at his side. The boy’s voice shook, but there was conviction there that made Enzo believe every word.

Lyra stepped forward, carrying a bowl of herbs she had been grinding. She set it beside Elias and touched his shoulder. “Don’t push too hard, Elias. You’re bleeding.”

They all looked down and saw the streak of crimson sliding from his nose, staining the parchment. The child blinked rapidly, wiped his face with his sleeve, and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. She needs us. I can do this.”

Atlas knelt in front of his daughter, his voice low but urgent. “Lyra, what is in that bowl?”

She looked at him, her violet eyes glowing faintly. “A tonic to keep the soldiers’ senses sharp. They’ll need it when they face the illusions Malrik set. If their minds falter, they’ll die before they even see the blades coming.”

Atlas’s lips parted, astonishment flickering across his face. “How do you know that?”

“I just know,” she whispered. “The plants tell me.”

The brothers exchanged a heavy glance. Each of their children carried powers that frightened even them, yet it was those same powers that had given them hope when all else seemed lost.

Kael’s son moved to the weapons laid across the table. His small hand hovered above the blades, and each one trembled, rattling as though recognizing him. He touched the hilt of a dagger, and the metal screamed with energy before settling into silence.

“He wants us to fear him,” the boy murmured, his dark eyes fixed on the blade. “But he should fear us.”

Kael placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, steadying him. “Careful. Don’t burn yourself out before the fight.”

The boy looked up, silent, but nodded once.

Aria stood by Ash, staring at the map. She pointed to another glowing mark Elias had drawn. “Here. The wind told me. There are arrows waiting. If we walk that way, they’ll come from the trees. But I can change the air. I can bend it, make them miss.”

Ash bent down to her level, gripping her small hand. “You don’t have to carry this, little one.”

“Yes, I do,” she whispered, her blue eyes shimmering with tears. “Mama needs me too.”

Enzo straightened, his wolf simmering just beneath the surface of his skin. He could feel Lisa’s pain through the children’s words. Every detail Elias described, every trap Lyra prepared for, every whisper Aria caught, and every surge of Kael’s son’s power only confirmed what his heart already knew—Lisa was suffering, and Malrik had no intention of letting her go without blood.

He slammed his palm onto the table, the sound echoing through the room. “We’re done waiting. We prepare tonight, and we march at dawn. No excuses. No hesitation.”

Ash looked at him sharply. “Enzo, we can’t throw ourselves into his territory without a plan. He’ll slaughter us.”

Enzo’s eyes burned with fury. “Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t feel every second she’s in pain while we sit here debating? Elias has shown us the way. Lyra has given us the tools. Aria and Kael’s boy are ready. If we wait any longer, she won’t survive to see the red moon.”

The room fell silent. The brothers stared at him, the weight of his words pressing down on them like stone. Finally, Kael nodded. “Then we prepare. But we prepare properly. No mistakes.”

Atlas sighed heavily, then pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll see to the soldiers. If Lyra is right, we’ll need to fortify their minds before they march. Otherwise, Malrik’s illusions will turn them into corpses before they even lift a blade.”

“I’ll prepare the healers,” Ash said grimly. “If the children are right, we’ll need every hand we can get before this ends.”

Kael rested a hand on his son’s shoulder. “And I’ll see to the weapons. Poisoned blades, as the boy said. If Malrik bleeds, he should bleed slow.”

Enzo turned to Elias. “You’ll guide us. Every trap, every path, every shadow you saw—you’ll show us all of it. Do you understand?”

Elias looked up at him, his small body trembling, but his eyes shining with determination. “Yes, Father. I’ll take you to her.”

Lyra set her bowl aside and picked up another pouch of herbs. “And I’ll make sure no one falters. I’ll brew enough for every soldier. They’ll march with clear eyes and steady hands.”

Aria lifted her face toward the window, the faint sound of thunder rumbling in her chest. “And I’ll bring the storm when you need it.”

Kael’s son gripped the dagger tighter, his gaze dark. “And I’ll break him.”

The brothers exchanged another heavy look, none of them speaking what they all felt. These children—fragile yet unyielding—had become their greatest weapon.

The preparations began immediately.

Soldiers filled the courtyard, lining up as Atlas strode among them, distributing the draught Lyra had made. Some hesitated, uneasy at the thought of drinking a potion created by a child, but the moment it touched their tongues, clarity filled their eyes. Their fear lessened, their posture straightened.

Kael oversaw the sharpening of blades, coating them in poisons strong enough to bring even the mightiest wolf to its knees. His son stood beside him, his aura pulsing, the weapons trembling under his touch as though they recognized the destruction he carried.

Ash moved through the healer tents, preparing herbs, poultices, and charms, his daughter clinging to him, whispering of storms and winds that would obey her call when the time came.

And Enzo—he stood at the center of it all, Elias at his side, watching as his boy drew glowing paths across the ground, mapping the battlefield that awaited them. Every trap, every ambush, every shadow of danger was revealed under Elias’s trembling hand.

Night fell, but the fortress burned with light and movement. Wolves trained, weapons gleamed, the air reeked of herbs and steel.

And through it all, the brothers prepared—not just for war, but for the rescue of the woman who bound them all.

Lisa.

Enzo’s fists clenched as he watched his son’s light fade slightly with exhaustion, and yet Elias pressed on, whispering, “Almost done, Father. I’ll show you every step. We’ll bring her home.”

Enzo’s heart swelled with pride and rage, and his wolf howled silently inside him. Tomorrow, they would march. Tomorrow, the earth itself would tremble.

And Malrik would learn the fury of brothers—and the wrath of children born of wolves.