Zara’s POV
The woman in silver chains smiled like she had arrived exactly on time.
I disliked her immediately.
She stood in the shattered gateway surrounded by soldiers dressed in black armor with no crest, no House colors, no visible allegiance. Their silence was worse than shouting. Trained men usually breathed loudly when entering a battlefield.
These ones breathed like knives.
They can cut the air itself.
Around me, the courtyard held still.
Blood Moon wolves bristled.
Crescent guards tightened formation.
Even the surviving Crimson loyalists looked uncertain, which was richly deserved.
Greyson stepped half a pace in front of me.
Automatic.
Protective.
Infuriatingly effective.
My newly sharpened senses caught everything at once—the thunder of his pulse, the metallic scent
