They didn’t clean the yard first.
That was intentional.
The wounded were taken inside. The blood wasn’t. It darkened the dirt in uneven patches, marking where bodies had fallen, where panic had scattered people, where truth had tried to step forward and been punished for it.
Lyra stood near the edge of the torchlight, arms crossed tightly over her chest, watching wolves move around each other like strangers. No one met anyone else’s eyes for long. Even those who’d dragged the injured away moved with care now, as if any sudden motion might be misread.
This was the cost of opening the gate.
Tyler stood at the center of it.
He hadn’t followed Ronan. He hadn’t chased smoke or shouted threats into the trees. The moment the gate closed, his attention turned inward.
That, more than anythin
