The yard went quiet the way a storm goes quiet not peace, just the space between one violence and the next.
Damien's patrol was finished. Some had run for the treeline when they saw Marcus fall; the rest didn't run anywhere again. Ironfang's wolves moved through the aftermath with the grim economy of men who'd done this before, and Cain stood in the middle of it giving orders in that flat voice, and I stood in the broken doorway of the clubhouse with Celeste's terrified face burning a hole in the back of my mind.
There's a page even Cain doesn't have. And the secret on it is his.
"Burn nothing," Cain was saying. "Damien needs to find his patrol exactly where they fell. Let him understand what it costs to send wolves to my gate." He turned, and his eyes found me across the yard, and the
