The moment the second horn echoed across the stone walls, something inside me shifted.
Not instinct.
Not fear.
Understanding.
Because this—
This didn’t feel like an attack anymore.
It felt like pressure.
Measured. Controlled. Intentional.
My gaze moved slowly across the space, taking in everything at once—the fallen bodies, the scattered fighters, the way the attackers repositioned instead of advancing blindly.
They weren’t rushing.
They weren’t desperate.
They were thinking.
And that—
That was wrong.
“They’re not trying to break through,” I said quietly.
Ronan didn’t respond immediately.
He was watching.
Not the chaos.
The pattern.
His stillness was different now. Not calm. Not detached.
Focused.
Dangerously so.
Another group of fighters moved in from the far corrido
