The formal challenge came that evening, delivered with the particular ritual weight that seemed to govern every significant moment inside Iron Reign's walls — a rider named Marcus, young, ambitious, and clearly aligned with Cutter's faction on the council, stepping into the center of the yard during evening mess and issuing words that silenced every conversation around him.
"I challenge the Alpha's fitness to lead," Marcus said, voice carrying with practiced formality. "Rumors have reached this compound of weakness. Of collapse. Of a mark that grows more dangerous by the week. I demand proof that Iron Reign is still led by someone capable of protecting us through what's coming."
Ronan rose slowly from his own seat, expression gone carefully, dangerously still. "You're welcome to demand p
