—Natasha's POV—
The atmosphere in Ashbourne congealed into something thick and watchful. In the wake of Zane’s explosive, near-lethal confrontation with Elder Cyrus, the packs didn't just divide; they fossilized. Loyalties hardened into brittle, defensive positions. Zane’s faction became a fortress under siege, its leader a volatile monarch pacing battlements of his own crumbling sanity.
The air around their garage and clubhouse crackled with a paranoid energy, every outsider's glance perceived as a threat, every whisper a potential betrayal.
Enzo, with the cool precision of a general who recognizes a losing battlefield, executed a strategic withdrawal. He ceased all public challenges. He no longer appeared in spaces Zane frequented. He ordered his riders to avoid provocations, to stan
