Aric’s patience finally broke that morning. He had been watching Elder Marron for days — the way the man always avoided Draven’s gaze, how he lingered near the messengers, how his scent carried traces of something foreign. When Rage confirmed the same suspicion, they decided to act.

Before dawn, Aric dragged Marron into the war chamber. The old wolf struggled, cursing and spitting, until Rage slammed him against the stone table.

“You’ve been sending letters,” Rage said coldly. ...