Rowan's P.O.V.
The night air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and smoldering tension. The celebration behind us was long over, but the echoes of Damian’s victory still rang in my head like a taunt. We had left without a word, but the way Silas had walked ahead of me, shoulders squared, chest high—it told me everything I needed to know.
He thought he’d won something tonight.
We had barely crossed the river marking the edge of the territory when I noticed the first shift. Grayson and Thorne flanked Silas instead of me, their usual easy loyalty replaced with something quieter, watchful. Even Raven, who had barely spoken since I found her, was walking closer to him, her keen eyes tracking his movements.
It was subtle, but I’d been leading too long not to recognize it.
Silas wasn’t j
