Chapter Twenty-Three
Xavier's Point Of View
The night reeked of smoke and blood.
It drifted on the wind like perfume, clinging to my skin, to my clothes, to my very bones. I stood at the cliff's edge, boots biting into the stone, and looked down into the valley.
Far below, Alvaro's campfires burned steady and bright. Little flames scattered against the dark, fragile beacons, easily snuffed out. I watched them with the patience of a predator. They thought themselves safe for now. They thought pushing back the rogues meant they had won something.
But rogues were pawns. Always pawns.
The true game was mine to play.
I let my fingers trail over the obsidian pendant that hung heavy at my throat. The stone throbbed faintly, like a second heartbeat pressed against my skin. From it came the
