The northern wind always carried iron.
That was what the elders used to say about Red Hollow territory.
Iron in the soil.
Iron in the riverbed.
Iron in the wolves who ruled it.
Alpha Lucian Vale stood at the edge of the northern ridge, his boots pressed into frost hardened earth as his warriors trained below. Steel clashed against steel. Bodies collided in calculated brutality. Snow sprayed under heavy movement.
He watched in silence.
Lucian did not waste words when observation gave him more.
The air shifted behind him.
“Nightfang has secured Western Crescent neutrality.”
Lucian did not turn immediately.
Instead, he let the words settle.
Then slowly, he faced his Beta.
“Confirmed?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Lucian’s mouth curved slightly not in amusement, but in appreciation.
“Kael
