Axel
Rhett found me out by the training field, jogging up with the kind of urgency that meant something had actually gone wrong instead of just mildly inconvenient.
"We've got a stranger at the north boundary," he said. "Warlock, by the smell of him. Says he's looking for a woman named Celeste."
Every muscle in my body went taut at once. "Says he's looking for what?"
"Celeste. By name." Rhett held my gaze, steady, waiting for orders. "He knows her, Axel. Not passing familiarity the way he talks about her, it sounds like history. He says he won't leave without seeing her safe."
I found Lowen already crossing the yard toward us, jaw set, having clearly caught the same tension through the pack bond that had pulled me off the field.
"A warlock," Lowen said, low, like the word itself tast
