DAMON'S POV
The guard at the western gate stepped out of the small watch shack as I pulled up in the truck. He held up a hand, but when he saw my face through the glass, he lowered it immediately.
"Damon," he said, resting a hand on his holster. "We have orders to lock down the border. Marcus Sterling's wolves are moving along the river."
"I know," I told him, keeping my voice leveled. "I'm checking the secondary watchposts along the ridge. Raise the barrier." He didn't question me. He waved toward the booth, and the iron gate creaked upward. I drove through and kept my speed steady until the lights of the main compound disappeared behind the trees.
Once I hit the old dirt track leading north, I killed the headlights. The moon was high enough to show the ruts in the road.
