The prisoner was dragged into the training grounds in chains, his face a mass of bruises and dried blood. He was young, perhaps twenty-five summers, with the lean build of a scout or messenger. But his eyes held the desperate cunning of someone who knew his life hung by a thread.Darius descended from his seat, approaching the captive with predatory grace. The crowd remained silent, every wolf straining to hear what would be revealed."You claim to have intelligence about a spy in my pack," Darius said, his voice carrying deadly quiet across the grounds.The prisoner nodded frantically. "Y-yes, Alpha. The Shadow, they call themselves. Been feeding information to Bloodfang for months patrol routes, defensive positions, everything.""Lies," Agatha snarled from beside me. "This could be another deception, designed to make us turn on each other."But something in the prisoner's desperate sincerity rang true. I could see it in Darius's expression, the way his shoulders tensed with the weig
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