The camp buzzed with tension. Hunters checked their weapons, whispered strategies, and mentally prepared for the bloodbath ahead. This wasn't just another battle—this was the war to reclaim what had been stolen.
Liam stood by the war table, staring at the map of the lair, his fingers pressing into the wood. The weight of command was a heavy thing, but his focus never wavered.
Elijah and his Legions moved between the groups, reinforcing battle plans. Ragnar exchanged tactics with Marcus and Lucian, while Dexter went over the entry routes with Elena.
Then—the shift in energy.
A single glance from Sienna. A flicker of confusion, then irritation. She stalked forward.
"You're awfully quiet."
Stacy, standing at the edge of the gathering, barely reacted. She didn't flinch, didn't turn. Just stared into the distance.
"I'm listening," she said simply.
Sienna's brows furrowed. "Yeah? To what? The wind?"