"This isn't how you fight a war. This is how you lose everything."
Rhett's voice carved through the flickering shadows of the war room, his body taut with fury. The candlelight played tricks on his features, sharpening the edges of his jaw, igniting gold in his storm-gray eyes. His hand slammed flat against the ancient map splayed out across the table, dust rising like the ghosts of forgotten generals.
Magnolia flinched, barely, but didn't retreat. "And standing still while Sterling poisons the air we breathe is how we win? Tell me that again."
Around them, the gathered circle, leaders, warriors, and frightened kin, watched the unraveling of trust between two alphas who should've been united. The air crackled with opposing energies. Rhett, dressed in black tactical gear laced with crimson thread, radiated dominance. Magnolia, cloaked in midnight blue with her silver braid loose over one shoulder, carried the weight of the prophecy in her silence.
