Page 64 of Savage Devotion
His expression hardens. "Confirmed?"
"I watched them report to Heldrik personally. Emergency intelligence about the raid announcement."
"How do you want to handle it?"
"Carefully. They're not the end of the chain, just links. We need to see where the information goes next." I check the positions of the sentries, making sure we're not being observed. "But that means following them when they make their next move."
"Tonight?"
"Has to be. Intelligence this significant gets passed up the chain immediately, especially if it involves potential disaster for our forces."
Kaelgor nods slowly. "I'm with you."
"You're injured. This requires stealth and mobility."
"I'm functional. And you need backup you can trust absolutely." His eyes meet mine directly. "Unless you've identified other candidates."
The honest answer is no. The revelation about Varrick and Jon has shaken my confidence in everyone else, leaving me doubting loyalties I've taken for granted. Kaelgor might be injured, but he's also the only person in camp whose motivations I understand completely.
"Alright. But we do this smart. No unnecessary risks, no heroic gestures. Information gathering only."
"Agreed."
"And if something goes wrong, if we're discovered or separated..."
"We adapt. Survive. Complete the mission."
The words are a military doctrine, but underneath I hear something more personal. A promise that goes beyond operational objectives.
I extend my hand, and he clasps it firmly. His grip is warm despite the cool evening air, callused from weapons training but gentle enough to remind me that strength doesn't require brutality.
"Partners?" I ask.
"Partners."
The pact sealed at sunrise feels like a lifetime ago, but this moment carries similar weight. Different stakes, but the same fundamental choice to trust despite uncertainty.
"Let's go catch some traitors."
9
KAELGOR
The moonless sky swallows us whole as we descend into Ember Hollow's smuggler tunnels. Five of us total, Ressa, myself, and three hand-picked soldiers whose loyalty she's verified through methods I don't question. The entrance yawns like a wound in the earth, carved between collapsed foundation stones where the old temple district once stood.
My brother died fifty yards from here.
The thought arrives unbidden, sharp as winter steel. I push it down, focusing on the mission. Intelligence gathering. Expose the spy network. Simple objectives wrapped in layers of personal stakes I'm still learning to navigate.
Ressa moves ahead of me, torch held low to minimize our visibility from deeper in the tunnels. Her steps are silent despite the uneven stone floor, each footfall placed with the someone who's spent years learning to survive in hostile territory. The light catches the curve of her neck where it meets her shoulder, and I have to force my attention back to tactical concerns.
"Passage splits ahead," she whispers, voice barely audible above the distant drip of water. "Intelligence suggests the mainsmuggling route goes left, but there's a secondary tunnel to the right."
"Secondary tunnel leads to the old bone yards," I reply quietly. "Abandoned since the first clan wars. Good place for private meetings."
"That's our target."
The air grows colder as we move deeper underground. Not the natural chill of stone and earth, but something else. Something that makes the hair on my arms stand upright despite my leather armor.
