The sun was still setting when Sera found Torres.
He was standing near the memorial garden’s eastern gate, speaking quietly with Councillor Chen, both of them watching Vasquez’s retreating figure as her official vehicle disappeared down the territory road. Something in Torres’s posture told Sera he’d been watching for longer than courtesy required.
“A moment,” Sera said to Torres, her voice carrying no further than necessary. She glanced at Chen. “Privately.”
Chen read the situation immediately and excused himself with a nod, moving back toward the dispersing crowd of wolves still lingering among the memorial stones. Torres fell into step beside Sera as she walked toward the garden’s quieter northern edge, away from the remaining wolves, away from ears that might carry words to the wron
