The wind clawed through the trees outside the Fairbanks outpost, but inside, the tension was sharper.
Two wolves—Renn and Kael—stood in the war room, flanking a third figure bound to a chair. Dren. The supposed spy. Quiet. Helpful. Forgettable.
Too forgettable.
“We found him rerouting signal logs,” Renn said. “Masking outbound transmissions.”
Kael added, “He knew perimeter codes we never gave him.”
Taylor stood near the door, arms crossed. Eli beside her, silent but alert.
Ava stepped forward.
She didn’t ask for permission.
She didn’t ask for proof.
She looked Dren in the eye. “Who sent you?”
Dren didn’t speak.
Ava drew her blade.
“You don’t get silence,” she said. “Not after what we’ve lost.”
Dren’s jaw clenched. “You won’t win.”
Ava didn’t flinch.
She turned to the gathere
