Richard
The tree line at the Vasquez border looked exactly like every other stretch of contested forest Richard had crossed a hundred times before, except that tonight it felt like the edge of something he couldn't take back once he stepped over it.
He had come without armor, without an escort, without the careful political shell he usually wore into another Alpha's territory. He had told himself the whole run here that this was strategy — that arriving unarmed, alone, would signal something Demon Vasquez couldn't easily dismiss as posturing. Somewhere beneath the strategy, though, he knew the truth was simpler and far less dignified. He had needed to see her breathing with his own eyes, and no amount of pack protocol had been strong enough to override that need.
Vasquez fighters flanke
