Exposing the hidden agendas

Fiona's pov

“You feel that?” I asked, voice low, thumb pressed hard against Logan’s hand.

“He’s near,” he said. His teeth showed in a half-snarl. The tunnel hummed with it, Wakanda’s flare rolling like distant thunder. The walls vibrated.

“Then move,” I said. My fire lifted at my palms without asking, a bright ache that made my skin itch. Logan dragged me forward. His grip wasn’t gentle.

We came out into the old council hollow faster than I expected, breath knocking against my ribs. The place smelled of old smoke and wolf fur and history. Paintings ran along the stone: worn faces, a throne, a wolf with a crown. My fingers left glittering trails of light on the murals. The power in this room answered to bloodlines. It hummed. It waited.

“Rowan’s voice,” I said. “He’s trying to rally the pack, split them.”

Logan’s jaw worked. “He plays politics like he plays with knives, slick and ugly.”

We crouched in the shadow of a collapsed pillar. The name Amaiya traveled like cheap wine, sweet,