Aidan.
The thundering beat of heavy horse hooves echoed through the dense pine forest as Davian and I rode at full gallop toward Noah's territory. My leather cloak snapped violently in the cold wind, speckled with drying mud and the blood of Vincent's vanguard.
We didn't stop to rest. We didn't stop to clean our blades. The moment the river pass was secured and Marcus took control of the border, we drove our mounts straight through the mountain trails.
Up ahead, the heavy timber gates of Noah's pack house swung open wide. Armed guards in silver-and-black cloaks stood at full attention along the stone walls, bowing their heads as we thundered into the inner courtyard.
I hauled my reins back, my horse skidding to a halt on the slick cobblestones. I swung my leg off the saddle before the beast even came to a complete stop, my heavy boots hitting the ground with a dull thud.
