Compound Grounds – Pre-War Games. Dusk.
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The forest hadn’t warmed yet. Mist clung low to the ground like the breath of sleeping wolves, and the stone courtyard of the Bloodclaw training grounds buzzed with rising energy. War games meant sweat, blood, and pack dominance on full display. Lycans stretched, stripped, sparred. The sky split a dark blue between the trees, but no one looked up. They were all looking inward. Waiting. Ready. Bane Ortega knew better. The Omega was already moving, quiet in his tailored black joggers and a hoodie cropped to show the curve of his abs. His eyes tracked everything. Every twitch, scent, silence. And something was off. He caught Victor first, already lacing his boots by the eastern pit wall, gaze locked on nothing. Stiff. Still. Coiled like a blade that
