Ronan’s world narrowed to the chaos around him. The echoes of battle had barely faded, but his mind was consumed by only one thought, Layla was gone.
His chest heaved as he tore through the Stormborn camp, searching for any sign of her. The rogues had struck with terrifying precision, breaching their defenses as if they had been guided from within. And that was what unsettled him most.
There had to be a traitor.
A sharp growl left his throat as he grabbed a nearby scout by the collar. "Who let them in? How did they get past our sentries?"
The young warrior shook his head, fear in his wide eyes. "I don’t know, Alpha. We didn’t see them until it was too late."
Too late.
Ronan forced himself to release the scout and stormed toward the war council’s tent, where his most trusted fighters
