Dawn came slowly to Blackclaw.
A pale gray light stretched across the sky, filtering through the tall trees that surrounded the compound. The aftermath of the battle still lingered in every corner—blood scrubbed from stone, splintered wood stacked beside the broken gate, warriors moving with quiet exhaustion.
But beneath it all, something else had taken hold.
Tension.
Not the loud kind that came with battle.
The quiet kind.
The kind that made wolves watch each other just a little too closely.
Selene hadn't slept.
She stood in the courtyard, arms folded, observing the early morning activity. Healers moved between injured warriors. Patrol shifts rotated with tighter discipline than ever before.
Every movement felt… measured.
Controlled.
Good.
Fear, when guided properly, became awareness.
Silas approached from the far side of the yard, his presence cutting cleanly through the tension. Even after a night without rest, he looked steady—focused.
Dangerous.
