The camp stretched across the valley like a living thing fires burning low, sentries pacing, weapons stacked neatly beside men and women who pretended to rest. Three armies shared the same ground, but unity was fragile, stitched together by necessity rather than trust.
The Moretti loyalists kept to the northern ridge, disciplined and silent. Luca's elite guards occupied the center, moving with practiced efficiency, eyes always scanning. Seraphina's defectors lingered at the edge, separate even now, their loyalty proven by blood but still questioned by whispers.
Tension hummed through the air.
Damian stood at the edge of the command map, arms folded, jaw set. He felt it the old grudges, the unspoken accusations. Men who once feared Alessandro now wondered if Damian would become him. Others watched Isabella with open awe… and quiet resentment.
"She inspires them," Luca said softly, coming to stand beside him. "That scares people."
