The first problem hit on the second day of her new “not-a-title” job.
It wasn’t dramatic. No attack, no screaming, no blood on the snow. Just a timing slip and a wolf on the wrong path at the wrong moment.
Which, in the world of borders, was often all it took.
“East ridge team is late,” Tamir said, dropping onto the bench opposite Aria at the midday meal. His plate was still full. That told her more than his voice did.
“How late?” she asked.
“Twenty minutes,” he said.
Twenty wasn’t disaster. Yet. But patrols ran like heartbeats. When they skipped, the whole system felt it.
“Who’s on east ridge?” she asked, reaching automatically for the folded rotation schedule in her pocket.
“Rian and Kessa,” Tamir said. “You put them there.”
Her stomach twitched. Yes. Rian — steady, quiet, very
