New Crisis Trigger
The howl didn't fade. It multiplied. Not in the plaza—no wolf there broke formation—but somewhere beyond the river, beyond the neat geometry of lanterns and law, a second voice answered the first. Lower. Closer. Silas's hand slid from the back of my head to my shoulder—not possessive. Protective. "Inside," he said, already scanning the edges of the square. Geneviève moved before he finished the word. Two European sentries peeled off toward the river's direction. The emissary did not run. He watched. Which told me everything. This wasn't an attack. It was timing. A wolf broke from the western edge of the plaza at a sprint—boots striking stone too fast for ceremony. He shifted mid-stride, bones snapping into place with brutal efficiency, then returned to human form again as he h
- Writer
