Luca had once believed that division announced itself with shouting.
With claws unsheathed.
With blood on stone.
He had been younger then.
He knew better now.
Division began in silence.
It began in the space between one wolf's glance and another's hesitation.
It began in the way conversations lowered when certain names were spoken.
He stood in the elder chamber again, the heavy oak table between them like an old scar that refused to fade.
"This weakens us," he said quietly.
The words did not echo.
They settled.
An elder leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "Containment strengthens control."
"It strengthens doubt," Luca corrected.
Another elder exhaled. "You overstate the threat."
Luca's jaw tightened faintly.
"I remember when we said that before."
The room grew still.
No one asked what he meant.
They knew.
