ALPHA KANE

First move

Kane cut the runner's throat before he hit the ground.

Ottilie caught the body, lowered it without sound. Two of Reeve's fighters held position behind them, blades out, breathing controlled.

"That's the last one," Ottilie whispered. "Six down. Camp's clear."

Kane wiped his blade on the dead man's sleeve. "Joren, status on the horses."

Joren's voice came low from the treeline. "Tied off. Nobody's getting mounted fast."

They'd moved on the Vask patrol two hours before dawn, five against seven, night cover and surprise doing the work strength couldn't. Kane had planned it for three days straight — not waiting for Reeve's coalition, not waiting for permission. The patrol scouting Dustbridge's numbers wasn't going to report back if he could help it.

"One's missing," Ottilie said, scanning the camp. "I counted seven riders yesterday. We've got six bodies."

Kane's jaw tightened. "Find him."

They spread out, checking the treeline, the horses, the low ground near the creek. Nothing. Five minutes of searching turned up a single set of boot prints heading north, fast, no attempt to cover them.

"He ran," Joren said. "Soon as it started."

"Which means he saw enough to report," Kane said. "Numbers, tactics, maybe faces."

Ottilie crouched by the print. "He's got at least half an hour on us. Full sprint toward the stronghold. We chase, we're exposed in daylight with a dead patrol behind us."

Kane looked north, toward wherever the trail led. He'd known going in that clean wasn't guaranteed. "We don't chase. We move."

"Move where?"

"Back to Dustbridge. Reeve gets his answer today."

They rode hard, cutting the return trip in half. Dustbridge came into view as the sun cleared the ridgeline, and Reeve was already standing at the east field gate, arms crossed, like he'd known Kane would come back with an answer before three days were up.

"You hit them," Reeve said. It wasn't a question. He'd read the blood on Kane's sleeve.

"Six down. One got away."

"Then Dorian knows something's happening here within the day."

"He already knew something was happening here," Kane said. "Now he knows it's organized enough to wipe a patrol."

Reeve studied him. "So what's the answer."

"Yes," Kane said. "Coalition. Your fighters, my people, Ottilie's intelligence. One command."

Reeve's expression didn't shift, but his shoulders dropped half an inch, tension leaving a body that had been carrying it for weeks. "Whose command."

"We'll figure that out when there's time to argue about it," Kane said. "Right now we don't have it."

Reeve extended a hand. Kane took it.

"I'll get my people moved into town by tonight," Reeve said. "We'll need defensible positions mapped before Dorian decides to answer that runner's report with something bigger."

"Ottilie's got patrol routes memorized," Kane said. "Start with her."

Reeve nodded once and walked off toward his fighters, already calling orders. Kane watched him go, then felt Senna's presence before he heard her, that same clean read on scent and movement that had been sharpening every day since the raider camp.

"You're bleeding again," she said, falling into step beside him.

"It's not mine."

"I can tell the difference now. This is yours." She grabbed his wrist, turned it over, found the shallow cut along his forearm he hadn't noticed taking. "Sit down."

"Later."

"Now, or I stitch it standing up and it's crooked."

Kane sat on the trough edge, same spot as two days before. Senna worked in silence, cleaning the cut, her hands quick and certain.

"How fast did this start closing," she asked, not looking up.

"I don't know. I wasn't checking."

"I'm checking." She finished the stitch, sat back on her heels, studying him. "You want to know what I'm seeing."

"Yes."

"You're healing at almost twice the rate you were a week ago. Not wolf speed. Not human either. Something in between, and it's accelerating." She met his eyes. "Every fight you walk into, it moves faster. That's not a coincidence."

Kane looked down at the stitched cut, at skin that had already started pulling tight around the thread.

"Two days ahead of a normal human timeline," Senna said. "That's what I clocked yesterday. Today it's closer to three."

He didn't answer. He sat there long after she'd packed her kit and walked away, staring at his own hand like it belonged to someone he hadn't fully met yet.