Chapter 2 - Five Feet From Trouble
Renata Quintero Peralta stood with one boot braced on a low crate, a field map pinned beneath her hand and a dagger braced on its edge. Her curls were braided back and laced with thin silver thread—functional, not decorative. The undercut along one side of her scalp gleamed under the netted light. Her tactical gear was clean, worn, real. The curved blade on her thigh looked like it got more action than most Alphas.
She moved like command. Spoke like consequence. And Goddess help Tlacaelel, she was gorgeous in a way that made his ribs ache.
Of course the liaison is hot, and armed.
Her voice cut through the camp like a razor:
“—we reset the perimeter runes at dusk. I want scouts rotating in trios. If the ground hums, you signal. If you feel watched, y
