(Dominic POV)
The smoke from the training fields still lingered in the air when I stepped out of the war room. It clung to the folds of my shirt and pressed into my lungs with every breath—harsh, acrid, and familiar. This was the scent of preparation. Of war.
Of something spiraling out of control.
Skylar had left an hour ago with a report of another ambush at the southern outpost—third in two weeks. No signs of Ravenwood warriors, but whoever was behind it moved with precision. My gut said it was Caleb’s doing, a silent hand tightening its grip around our throats. But I couldn’t prove it. Not yet.
And that was the problem.
The halls of the faction house felt colder these days, filled with whispers and glances I couldn’t always interpret. I knew what they said behind closed doors. That
