The wind coming off the high mountain pass carried the sharp smell of cold pine and wet iron. Rain drizzled over the mud, but the stranger standing at the tree line didn't even blink as water ran down their nose.
Elena didn't let go of the leather reins. Her knuckles turned white against the wet straps. Behind her in the cart, Clara immediately pulled Jax, Leo, and Maya behind her skirts, her hand reaching down to grab a heavy iron bolt lying in the hay. The silver wolves spread out in a silent half-circle, their teeth bared, muscles tense and ready to spring.
The stranger didn't draw a weapon. Instead, they took three slow, steady steps forward into the flickering red glow of the dying Council war flare.
As the dark hood fell back further, the faint light caught a thin, silver scar run
