Amara had been restless all day, and she told herself it was only Damian.
The silence between them had stretched two days now, thick and suffocating, and she’d thrown herself into training just to have something else to feel besides the ache of being shut out. It hadn’t worked. The unease clawing at her chest wasn’t just about him.
It was the camp itself.
Conversations were hushed. Wolves on patrol moved with rigid shoulders, ears twitching at sounds only they could hear. Even the fire at the center of camp seemed smaller than usual, dimmer, like it too had picked up on something wrong in the air.
Maybe it’s nothing, she told herself. But instincts didn’t lie, and hers had been screaming for hours.
Damian stood at the far end of camp, deep in low conversation with Rhea, his posture st
