Jace pov
The battle had ended twenty minutes ago, but the work was far from over. I moved through the makeshift triage area in the main hall, helping wherever I was needed—stabilizing wounded wolves, coordinating with the pack healer, ensuring everyone was accounted for.
Eight dead. Twenty-three injured, seven of those critical. The numbers kept running through my head like a mantra. We had survived, but the cost had been high.
Grace was across the hall, helping bandage a young fighter's leg wound. She'd barely stopped moving since the battle ended, her hands steady despite the exhaustion that had to be weighing on her. I found my eyes drawn to her repeatedly, unable to help myself.
She'd fought like something out of legend. Had probably saved a dozen lives with her tactical decisions
