The night after the traitor was caught, the camp was quiet—but not at peace.
Leon stood outside the ruined hall where the wounded were resting. His arms were crossed, but his hands trembled slightly. The cold breeze of the Red Hills did nothing to ease the burning in his chest.
He should have known.
He should have seen it.
“Nash...” he muttered under his breath. “How could you?”
He had trusted Nash with his life. They had fought side by side, trained together, shared jokes and food. Nash had always been a little wild, a little too sharp with his words, but Leon thought that was just who he was.
Now he saw it clearly.
The small signs. The times Nash had walked away when talks got serious. The times he had volunteered for guard duty... and yet was never present during an attack. How m
