Remembrance

KELLY THOMPSON'S POV

The burden of leadership weighed heavily on me, as tangible as the crown resting on my head. Paul Biansky stood in front of me, his body a canvas of bruises and cuts, each mark telling a story of loyalty and sacrifice.

"Paul," I started, my voice barely above a whisper, slicing through the quiet of the chamber like a shadow in the night. "I need you to be my eyes and ears where we can’t go. You have to slip through the darkness and gather whatever information you can on Alpha Biansky’s movements. Move silently, like a whisper in the wind, and keep our secrets safe."

His nod was serious, a spark in his eye promising he would return with the insight that could turn things in our favor—or at least alert us to the trouble brewing ahead. I had faith in him, not just as a fighter but as a watchman in the uncertain shadows.