Damon rode his black warhorse at full speed along the dirt road leading to the Benson military camp. The hot sun beat down on his shoulders. His mind was still lingering on the quiet atmosphere he had left behind at the mansion. He thought about Camilla and her soft smile.
But as he approached the high gates of the military base, his sharp senses immediately noticed that something was truly terribly wrong.
Usually, the camp was filled with the organized, rhythmic sounds of training. He expected to hear the loud, clear shouts of the instructors and the sharp clack of wooden practice swords.
Today, the camp sounded different.
There was no training. Instead, there was a loud, chaotic buzz of panicked voices, running footsteps, and the painful sounds of men groaning in pain.
Damon pulled his leather reins sharply. His warhorse galloped through the open gates and came to a hard, sliding stop in the center of the dusty yard.
