The Traitor's Map

FABIAN

I stood among the wreckage, ash and soot staining my boots. The acrid smell of smoke filled my nostrils, a constant reminder of how close we'd come to losing everything. Seventeen dead. Countless injured. The summit grounds—once a symbol of unity and progress—reduced to smoldering ruins.

My hands clenched into fists. The rogues had crossed a line today, and they would pay dearly for it.

"Alpha?"

I turned to find Gage, my trusted Gamma, picking his way through the debris. His face was streaked with grime, his clothes torn and bloodied from the fighting. In his hands, he carried something.

"What is it?" I asked, my voice raw from shouting orders for the past three hours.

Gage glanced around before stepping closer, lowering his voice. "We found this on one of the dead rogues. I thought you should see it immediately."