War had never been chaos to me.
That was the first mistake most Alphas made—believing war was something that happened, something that spiraled beyond control, something that could not be shaped once it began.
They were wrong.
War was not chaos.
War was design.
Every battle lost before it began. Every alliance formed long before the first blade was drawn. Every death accounted for, weighed, and accepted long before blood ever touched the ground.
I did not survive by reacting.
I survived by building the outcome before anyone else realized there was a game to play.
And Bloodmoon—
Bloodmoon was never meant to fall the way it did.
It was meant to end.
There is a difference.
I stood at the edge of the ridge, the night wind cutting sharply against my skin as the distant sounds of move
