Lucas POV
The Cursed Land hadn't changed. It was still the same place that smelled like rusted metal and scorched earth, where trust was dead and loyalty burned out faster than kindling.
I walked past what used to be Rufus's watch post, the spot where he'd drink, spit, and threaten anyone who tried to get too close. It was abandoned now with no guards, no firewood, no Rufus.
These people had started a rebellion and I needed to take care of things. I needed to make sure the blame wasn't on me and I can continue to be their leader.
Just a little deceit would do the trick.
The air shifted as I entered the broken courtyard. Figures emerged from the shadows, rough men with scarred faces, cloaked women with blades on their hips. These weren’t wolves who bowed. These were rogues!
A crowd was already forming. They already heard I was back.
"Lucas," one growled. A tall man with a crooked nose and thick arms crossed over his chest. His name was Gael, I remembered. One of the loudest mouths in
