Ridah’s POV
Kael didn’t come back that night.
He didn’t need to.
The message was waiting for us at the border when we got home. A dead wolf, throat torn open, pinned to the old boundary post with a blade that belonged to one of Forsaken’s lieutenants.
And carved into the bark above it, in Kael’s handwriting: _You took my packs. I’ll take what’s yours._
Forsaken’s hand found my wrist before I could reach for the blade. His jaw was locked, eyes dark. “Don’t touch it.”
“It’s a warning,” I said. “He’s done playing politics.”
Marcus cursed under his breath. “He killed one of ours to say it.”
“Not just one of ours,” Forsaken said quietly. “One of mine.”
The wolf on the post was Dain. Young. Twenty-two. First patrol since he’d been cleared for solo shifts. I’d laughed with him two nig
