The Matchmaker - The Arrax Saga Book 1 Chapter 144

The office was quiet again. Dinner had been simple, roasted vegetables, spiced meat, soft bread still warm from the hearth. They’d eaten slowly, letting the conversation drift through old stories and gentle memories. Saphira had laughed at one of Nikolas’ childhood tales, and she’d smiled when he described the way Zafira used to hum while cooking, always slightly off-key but full of heart. It had been a reprieve. A breath before the plunge.

Now, Saphira sat on the edge of the desk, legs crossed at the ankle, her fingers tracing the grain of the wood like it might reveal something hidden. The map lay rolled beside her, untouched for now. Nikolas leaned against the far wall, arms folded, his gaze steady but unreadable. The flickering lantern light cast soft shadows across his face, sharpening the lines of thought etched into his brow.

Then he asked, “If it came to it… would you be able to harm Lupus?”

The question dropped like a stone in her chest. Saphira didn’t answer right away. Her gaze drifted to the window, where the moon hung low and pale, its light silvering the edges of the glass. *He might be my father by blood… but in no way has he ever been my father. Not in the ways that matter.*

She turned back to Nikolas, her voice quiet but firm. “Yes. I would.”

Nikolas blinked, his brow furrowing slightly. His expression shifted, surprise, maybe even unease. His arms uncrossed, one hand dragging across his jaw.

Saphira narrowed her eyes, her tone sharpening. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He hesitated, then pushed off the wall and stepped closer, his movements slow. “I just wasn’t expecting that answer.”

She tilted her head, arms folding across her chest. “I would protect anyone here. If it came to it, I’d stand between him and Amara. Between him and you. Hell, between him and anyone who tried to harm this pack.”

Nikolas nodded slowly, his expression softening as he reached for her hand. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to question that.”

Saphira gave a small shrug, letting the tension ease. “It’s alright. You’re allowed to be surprised. Just not allowed to doubt me.”

Before he could reply, a knock echoed at the door.

Nikolas moved to open it, and in came Jasper, Sam, Anastasia, Zafira, Asher, Finn, Amara and Jed. Their expressions were focused, their movements brisk. Raven was absent, and Jed explained with a glance toward Saphira, “She’s still with the witches. They’re creating the barrier as we speak.”

Everyone settled quickly, the room shifting back into strategy. The map was unrolled again, its creases smoothed by practiced hands. Saphira slid off the desk and joined them, standing beside Nikolas as he began to speak, carefully omitting her bait plan.

“We’ve discussed several options,” he said, gesturing to the map. “Circling them, confronting them head-on, luring them into a controlled space. Each has strengths and risks.”

Jasper leaned forward, his fingers tapping the table in a steady rhythm. “Jed filled me in; they’re all strong plans. Each could work, depending on who comes, how they move, and what they bring.”

Sam nodded, arms folded. “We prepare for each. No single path. We adapt.”

They began marking the map again, hiding spots tucked into the forest line, vantage points near the cliffs, reinforced holding areas beneath the old barracks. Saphira watched the ink spread like veins, threading through their territory. *Every line is a possibility. Every mark a promise.*

Nikolas tapped a section of the map near the eastern ridge. “I suspect they’ll arrive from the path that leads to the elders. They’ll go to them first to try and get help.”

Zafira leaned in, her voice low. “Which hopefully they’ll say no to. Especially if it’s not part of the elders’ plan.”

The room had settled into a rhythm, strategic and focused, but not frantic. The map lay open across the table, marked with ink and intent, its surface now a web of possibilities. Saphira stood beside Nikolas, her fingers lightly resting on the edge, her gaze flicking between the markings and the faces around her. Each voice added weight to the plan, each suggestion a thread in the net they were weaving.

Amara sat quietly near the corner, wrapped in a thick shawl despite the warmth of the room. Her posture was small, folded inward, like she was trying to disappear into the fabric. Her eyes, once bright with curiosity and fire, now held a dimness that hadn’t lifted since Silvermoon’s cruelty. She hadn’t spoken much, hadn’t needed to, but now her voice broke through the quiet.

“What happens if they do have help from the elders?” she asked, her tone flat, almost hollow.

The question hung in the air like smoke. No one moved. Even the map seemed to still.

Saphira answered before anyone else could. Her voice was calm, but her gaze sharpened. “Even if they do, they wouldn’t send the official elders. It would be too risky. Too visible. But they could send decoys, pretenders meant to scare us into submission.”

She stepped closer to the map, tapping a ridge near the eastern border with the tip of her finger. “Which wouldn’t make it any more difficult. If they’re not real elders, they don’t carry the same weight. They’re just dressed shadows.”

Amara nodded slowly, her fingers tightening around the edge of her shawl. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came. *She’s trying to believe it. Trying to hold onto something solid.* Saphira gave her a small, reassuring glance. *I’ll make sure she has something to hold.*

The group leaned in again, the tension shifting back to planning. Jasper and Sam took lead on mapping strike points, their voices low and clipped. Zafira and Asher debated agility versus strength placements, gesturing across the map with quick flicks of their hands. Anastasia marked fallback zones with quiet precision, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Saphira moved between them, adjusting positions, suggesting pairings. *Speed here. Strength there. Nikolas near the cliffs. Me near the barracks. Just in case.* Her fingers brushed the ink as she traced routes, her mind already running through contingencies.

Then the door slammed open.

Raven burst through, breathless, her cloak half torn and eyes wide with urgency. Her hair was windblown, cheeks flushed, and her boots left muddy prints across the stone floor.

Everyone startled, chairs scraped, hands reached instinctively for weapons. Nikolas was halfway to her before she spoke.

Jed rushed to her side, gripping her arm. “What’s wrong?”

Raven’s voice came out in a gasp, her chest heaving. “They’re here. Already.”

The room froze.

Saphira’s heart kicked hard against her ribs. Her hand clenched around the edge of the table. *No more planning. No more waiting. It’s happening.* She looked at the map, then at the faces around her, her pack, her family.

*Time to move.*