The aftermath of war is the loudest kind of silence.
Ash clung to the air. Smoke drifted lazily from the east wing of the fortress, still smoldering. The stench of blood and burnt fur lingered like an omen.
I hadn’t shifted back yet.
My wolf didn’t want to.
She crouched on the fortress walls, overlooking the ruined battlefield, watching the border as if she expected more rogues to crawl out of the trees. She was tense, ears perked, silver coat glowing faintly in the dawn light.
Below, the warriors collected the bodies.
I spotted Kade among them, still human now, his chest bare, arms streaked with blood—some his, most not. His movements were slow, measured. But his energy was coiled, wound tight like a spring ready to snap.
He felt what I felt: this was far from over.
I leapt from t
