The sky was painted in streaks of crimson and deep violet, the final moments of the sun bleeding into the horizon as the army prepared to march. The air buzzed with tension—nervous hands tightening armor straps, blades being sharpened, warriors exchanging quiet, somber looks.
Tomorrow, blood would be spilled.
I stood at the edge of the encampment, my fingers grazing the hilt of my dagger. War was inevitable now. Luca had declared it, and the pack had answered.
But my thoughts weren’t on the battlefield.
They were on him.
Luca moved through the camp like a force of nature, his presence commanding respect and absolute obedience. His men looked to him with unwavering loyalty, as if he alone was enough to assure victory.
And maybe he was.
I hated that I admired it.
I had spent weeks co
