The words "Briarhusk scent" didn't land like information.
They landed like a countdown.
Sable heard Jace's report through the door before Cassian's footsteps fully faded down the corridor, and the den behind her tightened into something almost painful, her instincts pulling her backward toward shelter while her mind strained forward, trying to picture the ridge, the tree line, the slick stone, and the kind of men who came close enough to be smelled.
Alden was here.
Not through paper.
Through bodies.
Mara hovered near the door with her hand half-raised as if she wanted to go after Cassian, and Sable could see the same conflict in her eyes that burned in her own chest. Wolves answered threats. Wolves ran toward pack trouble. Wolves did not wait quietly in a room while other wolves bled.
Sable forced herself to stay still anyway.
