The alliance talks start on Thursday.
Lena's father sends a man named Gregor.
He's maybe fifty-five. Silver-haired. Built like someone who used to fight and stopped only because he didn't need to anymore. He walks into the packhouse like he's done it a hundred times and owns half of it. Silver Fang confidence.
It's in the way they're raised.
He shakes Rylan's hand.
He looks at me.
"Luna Vane," he says.
"Just Lyra is fine," I say.
"Luna Vane," he says again. Like he didn't hear me.
I decide to let it go. For now.
Lena is beside him. She looks like she slept well and made a series of careful decisions about her appearance this morning. Silver earrings. Blue jacket. Everything precise and intentional.
She looks at Rylan.
Rylan looks at her.
Something passes between them. Not rom
