Chapter 28. Crownless Ride (2)

The first Wolf moved.

Young—maybe too young for what his eyes had already seen, a lightning streak of dried blood from cheekbone to chin, jacket torn along one sleeve. He didn’t throw words into the air like he was paying a tithe. He swung onto his bike and thumbed the starter. The engine caught, a clean animal noise that drew a line across dust.

He said, “Crownless.” Not loud. Firm.

The shift happened like all real shifts: then one more, then two, then enough to be a shape. Another rider shouldered up beside him; a third flanked the other side; a fourth slid in with a nod like he was agreeing with his own bones. Headlamps cut parallel beams and lit the smoke in paired walls.

Others spit grit at their boots. “He killed Magnus!” someone tried, one more time, like the words could be asked to do more work than they had in them. “Traitor!” from another. “No crown, no—” and the voice dragged out on that last word like it had forgotten its end.

They turned th