Darrian’s POV
The air was thick with tension as we rode to the meeting site. I had chosen the eastern clearing near the falls—a neutral ground, open enough that no ambush could be hidden. My wolf stalked beneath my skin, teeth bared, growling low. The threat was too vague, too unknown.
Heather rode beside me in silence, her gaze locked forward, black hair trailing like a banner behind her. She hadn’t spoken much since the scout’s message. Neither had I. There was nothing left to say when your gut told you blood was coming.
We dismounted at the tree line. Ronan flanked me, silent and sharp-eyed. Heather stood tall, unflinching, even as the chill bit at our exposed arms. We waited.
A breeze shifted the branches. Then, from the fog-thick woods, emerged a single man.
He looked nothing lik
