Adrian's death did not fracture Grimridge. It sealed it.
The morning after the fight, the clearing bore no visible trace of what had happened there, yet every wolf in the territory carried the memory with sharp clarity. Word had traveled through corridors before dawn, not in whispers, but in steady recounting. There were no embellishments. No heroic exaggerations. The story did not require them. Adrian had forced breach inside territory. He had returned after exile. He had struck at Sable. He had challenged.
Cassian had answered. That was enough.
Sable felt the difference in the air the moment she stepped into the main hall. The pack did not avert their gaze from her. They did not study her as symbol or liability. Their eyes held recognition instead. Not of her injury. Not of her former defect. Recognition of position.
