#Chapter 128: Ronan's Answer

Ember On the third morning, Ronan comes down from the ridge with his answer written in the set of his shoulders before he ever opens his mouth. I'm sharpening my blade by the fire when Jake's perimeter guard calls in the sighting, and I sheathe the knife and pull on my leather vest over the camp shirt, lacing it tight while Kaine rises from the map table already dressed in his travel coat, jaw set like a man who slept in his authority and woke ready to wield it. Four figures cross the tree line into our clearing—Ronan in front, his beta scanning our guards and counting weapons the way I would have, and two younger wolves carrying a bundle of pelts between them like men crossing a bridge they aren't sure will hold. The pelts are an offering, and the careful way the young wolves cradle them tells me this bundle represents something the pack can barely afford to give. Ronan stops ten feet from the fire, looking older than he did three days ago, the lines around his mouth deepened by