Ashton's POV
The hunters crowded around the table, the firelight casting their faces in harsh lines. My proof lay in the center: a photograph of the castle, the address scrawled in a rough hand beneath it. The room buzzed with tense excitement, voices overlapping as they demanded details, routes, numbers.
For weeks, they had doubted me. Every night I came back empty-handed, their whispers grew bolder, calling me an old fool who had lost his edge. But when I laid that picture on the table the castle rising like a shadow over Ravensreach their smirks died on their lips.
At first, silence. Thick. Heavy. They leaned in, squinting at the photo, at the writing scrawled below. Then came the murmurs, low and astonished. A few men exchanged looks, the kind that said, he actually did it.
