His grip on the rogue’s hair shifted, not violent, not jerking, just adjusting so that the man had no choice but to look directly into his eyes.
“What do you know about the others?” he asked.
The rogue blinked, confused. “Others?”
“The ones that smell like belladonna,” Alaric continued, voice losing all softness. “The ones coating their claws with poison. The ones moving through no man's land like they’ve got backing.”
The rogue’s face changed.
Not guilt, nor fear.
Recognition.
“I don’t run with them,” he said quickly. “Never did.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
I felt Kara shift inside me at the tone in Alaric’s voice. Controlled. Sharp. The edge of something coiled but not unleashed.
The rogue hesitated.
“I heard things,” he admitted finally, eyes flicking briefly toward Ellis’s
