Silas steps into the clearing.
Not to the edge this time. Not half hidden where shadow does the work for him. He crosses the line he has never crossed, boots sinking into the soft earth inside my perimeter, close enough that I can see the faint scar along his jaw and the way his attention never quite leaves my face. There is no hesitation in the movement. No testing of reaction. He steps in like the decision was made long before his foot touched the ground.
The air reacts instantly.
Not violently. Not loudly. But everything tightens.
My wolf snaps upright beneath my skin, a low warning rolling through my chest before I can stop it. Not a snarl. Not a challenge. A signal. Awake. Watching. The wards do not repel him. They flex instead, lines drawing closer together, recognizing intrusion
