DAMON’S POV
The sun came up red over the mountains, but nobody inside the compound stopped to look at it.
Fighters stacked heavy sandbags along the outer wall. Trucks dropped steel barriers across the road. Up on the towers, guards pulled heavy guns out of wooden crates. Every engine that started sounded like an order, and every boot on the gravel was moving fast.
My father was turning our home into a war fort.
"Damon." Mara caught up to me as I walked toward the garages. She held a clipboard against her chest, her dark hair pulled back tight into a knot. "The scouts spotted Sterling wolves down by the river an hour ago," she said, keeping pace with me. "They aren't crossing yet, but they're building posts along the south bank."
"Keep our men back," I told her, looking straight ahead.
