LIAM’S P.O.V.
The cell door clanged shut behind us, but Irene’s fury still clung to the air like iron dust. Lance was alive, barely. But whatever piece of him might’ve once been a leader, a father, a wolf—it was long gone. And the woman who walked away from him wasn’t the same Luna who died under Cray’s blade. No, she was something sharper now. Something forged in ash.
We moved in silence through the stone halls. The others gave her space. Smart. Irene didn’t walk like she was back from the dead. She walked like she’d dragged Death behind her on a chain.
When we reached the war room, she didn’t wait for a debrief. She stopped at the map table and stared down at the eastern border, her expression unreadable. Like she could already see Eos marching toward us. Like she wanted her to.
“You
