Wolf had been tracking the flow of the battle as he always did, his eyes constantly flicking between the fighters, reading the movement of the crowd. It wasn't just instinct, it was habit. And in that constant sweep of the chaos, he'd noticed something.
Aron wasn't far behind them.
He was almost shadowing their advance, stepping in whenever someone got too close to Max, dispatching threats with brutal efficiency. Because of him, the path forward had been far easier than it should have been.
Wolf's gut told him Aron wasn't just hanging around by coincidence, he was waiting. Watching. Holding himself back for the right opponent. The kind of opponent who could turn the tide of a fight. And Wolf's guess had been dead on.
