The room was warmer than the corridor, yet Sable still felt the night clinging to her skin like damp cloth. Cassian had brought rain inside with him, not as water dripping from his hair or the bandage at his forearm, but as pressure, a quiet intensity that made the air in the Alpha's quarters feel tighter than it should have. The trap had worked. Kael was contained. A name had been pulled out of the mist.
Alden of Briarhusk.
Sable kept the name in her mind like a blade tucked into a sleeve, not to scare herself, but to stay sharp. Wolves like Alden didn't charge blindly. They calculated. They waited. They chose the moment that made their violence look like opportunity instead of crime.
