His stride was unhurried, yet each step rang with a confidence that made the shadows themselves seem to draw back from him. The silver glow from above followed him, outlining his form like a second skin.
As he crossed through the courtyard toward the storerooms, he could already sense them. Four presences, sharp and restless, moving with lethal intent. The guards clashed with them, but the rhythm was off — Xavier could tell instantly. The thieves weren't just skilled; they were dismantling the formation, one strike at a time.
A guard's scream cut through the night, abruptly silenced. Another clash rang out, followed by a curse.
Xavier chuckled low in his throat. "So eager to die."
He adjusted the grip on his gauntlet, his mind steady, his heart calm. The assassins thought themselves wolves. But tonight, under the gaze of the moon, he was the hunter.
With that thought, he moved to stepped into the fray.
***
