The war room had not been opened in years.
Not since Alessandro's father signed the treaty with Giovanni Romano.
Not since the last time the pack chose delay over destruction.
Now—
Maps covered the central table.
Boundary lines marked in red ink.
Patrol rotations rewritten every hour.
Luca stood at the far wall, arms folded, watching younger wolves move through the space with quiet urgency.
Weapons laid out.
Communications rechecked.
Supply routes mapped twice.
Because treaties delayed war.
They did not erase it.
---
"She uncovered the inscription," Luca said.
Alessandro did not answer.
Stormlight flickered across the maps.
"And?"
"She read enough."
A beat.
"Enough for what?"
"For the sigil to respond."
Silence settled.
Heavy.
"Shit."
Luca exhaled sharply.
"What now?"
Alessandro's voice lowered.
"Now we prepare."
"For Lucien?"
"No."
Thunder rolled across the valley.
"For what Lucien wants."
---
