Stormborn territory should have been a place of unity and preparation for the coming battle. Instead, it simmered with unease. The distant howls of rogue wolves loomed like an omen on the wind, but within the heart of the pack, another kind of danger brewed, one that Ronan had not accounted for.
Layla stood beside him on the overlook above the encampment, watching the wolves below. Some trained, sharpening weapons and preparing defenses. Others gathered in hushed groups, whispering, their faces tense with something darker than fear. Doubt.
“They’re uncertain,” Layla murmured, her keen eyes scanning the pack’s body language. “They’re not sure if they’re fighting for Stormborn or for something else entirely.”
Ronan exhaled sharply, his arms crossed over his chest. “They need to trust me.”
