The visitors did not announce themselves.
They never did, not the ones who expected the world to rearrange itself upon their arrival.
Aria felt them crest the valley long before the first black vehicles rolled into view, engines quiet, windows tinted, power humming beneath polished steel. The land stiffened. Not recoiling.
Bracing.
She stood on the upper terrace beside Damien, morning wind tugging at her hair as the convoy slowed and stopped just beyond the boundary line. No alarms. No weapons raised.
A show of respect.
Or a test.
"They're careful," Aria murmured.
Damien's mouth curved faintly. "That makes them dangerous."
The doors opened in unison.
Six men stepped out.
Not guards. Not soldiers.
Leaders.
Each carried themselves differently, but the weight was the same. Authority worn like a second skin. Wolves who had ruled too long to remember what it felt like to kneel.
Aria's wolf lifted her head, eyes narrowing.
These ones mattered.
