She did not knock.
The war room doors slammed open hard enough to echo.
Maps fluttered.
Torches shuddered.
And every wolf inside turned at once.
Elara stood in the doorway—
Soaked.
Shaking.
Eyes brighter than stormlight.
Ugh.
Alessandro didn't move from the table.
But his fingers tightened against the edge of it.
"You shouldn't be here," he said quietly.
Her laugh came sharp.
"Yeah? Where the hell should I be then?"
Silence.
"Evacuation transport?" she continued. "Far away where I can conveniently stop being your problem?"
"That is not—"
"Bullshit," she snapped.
Luca shifted slightly near the far wall.
Serena watched without speaking.
Because this—
Wasn't pack politics anymore.
---
"You knew," Elara said.
Rain dripped from her sleeves onto the stone floor.
"You knew what my blood would do."
A beat.
"You knew what the sigil would answer to."
Alessandro didn't deny it.
Her throat tightened.
"Holy shit."
The bond stirred sharply beneath her ribs.
Alive.
