The war room, once a sanctuary of peace, had become a battlefield.
Mark stood behind the great oak table, its surface littered with maps, scout reports, and half-empty mugs of bitterroot tea. Lark stood by the stone hearth, arms folded, eyes blazing with pent-up rage.
Neither one of them spoke.
The stillness stretched.
Cracked.
"You uncovered something," Lark finally. "Didn't you?"
Mark's jaw tightened. "Nothing that matters."
"That is not an answer."
Mark turned away, organizing reports that didn’t need organizing.
Lark pushed off the hearth, his voice rising. “You’re hiding something from me.”
“I’m protecting the pack.”
“You’re protecting her.”
The room dropped ten degrees.
Mark looked up slowly, eyes narrowed. “Say that again.”
“You heard me,” Lark growled. “She’s been gon
