Fresh intelligence arrived at dawn—intercepted messages confirming Darius’s main force would strike the western ridge in two days. The rival alliance had overcommitted, believing Steel Pack was fractured. They were wrong.
Ronan and Faith stood together at the head of the war room, maps glowing under lantern light. The claiming mark on Faith’s neck was still healing, but her side was bandaged tightly beneath her reinforced jacket. She refused to sit out the final push.
“We hit them here,” Faith said, tracing a line on the map. “A feint from the north to draw their elites, then the main force strikes from the valley. My earlier misinformation worked—they think we’re still weak on the eastern flank.”
Ronan nodded, his hand resting lightly on her lower back in open support. “We use the terr
