“Under attack?” Lance’s voice cut through the room like a blade, sharp and composed. He didn’t seem alarmed—just calculating.
“It appears to be the Neander Moon pack,” the man at the door said, his voice tight with urgency. Fiore could see the tension in his stance, though his eyes remained on Lance, awaiting orders. As she looked at him closely, she remembered his name: Kian.
“Hah. How brave,” Lance remarked, his lips twitching into a smirk. The words dripped with mockery, as if the Neander Moon pack’s audacity to attack was almost laughable to him. Without another word, he turned and started toward the door, his strides long and purposeful. Fiore, standing off to the side, instinctively moved to follow him. Whatever this was, she wanted to know more. She deserved to know more.
But bef
