The house had gone still.
Not quiet.
Still.
Like the kind of stillness before lightning splits a tree.
Sofia felt it. Felt them. Both armies. Both leaders. Waiting.
The weight of it pressed into her chest like hands—too many hands. Wolves behind her. Ixchele in front of her. And in between? Her.
The hallway was rubble and ruin. The marble stairs glittered with broken chandeliers and tracked blood. Eliza stood behind her, a cut dripping down one temple. Xochi to her right, breathing hard. She was the only one still holding steady. Her hand dropped briefly to her sister's thigh—to the blade always strapped there.
Sofia didn’t ask. She didn’t need to.
Xochi met her eyes. And nodded.
Sofia slid the blade free in one smooth movement and tucked it behind her, slipping it into the back o
