Ridah’s POV
The quarry smelled like wet stone and old blood.
We moved at 3 AM, when even the night shift got careless. No howls. No signals. Just hand gestures and the kind of silence that only comes when everyone knows if they mess up, people die.
I wasn’t leading this one.
That was the point.
Marcus led the strike team—twelve wolves, all Forsaken’s best, all quiet enough to move through a graveyard without waking the dead.
I stayed back on the ridge, watching through the scope of a rifle I hadn’t touched in years. Not because I couldn’t shoot. Because I couldn’t afford to lose control if I got close.
Kael’s supply line ran through the old quarry in three carts, guarded by eight wolves. Light guard. Overconfident. He thought we were still licking our wounds over Dain.
He was wron
