The plan took shape over the following day with a precision that left no room for the reckless improvisation that had defined nearly every decision I had made since riding onto Ashborn territory, and something about that careful discipline scared me almost more than Callahan himself did.
We choose the ground, Ronan said, spreading a fresh map across the table, this one marking an old quarry two hours from the compound, isolated enough to control access, open enough to prevent an ambush like the one at the lodge. If Callahan wants me, he comes to us, on terrain we've already mapped and prepared.
Mabel had spent the previous night deep in her archives, and she arrived at the planning session with a proposal that made even Ronan go quiet with consideration. A binding circle, she explained,
