The first real crack did not open in a council chamber, and it did not come wrapped in law, precedent, or one of Adrian's carefully balanced arguments.
It showed itself where Grimridge was least able to hide what lived under its skin, in the barracks and training hall, where wolves still defaulted to their bodies when words stopped feeling sufficient.
Sable heard the raised voices before she saw blood.
The northern training hall should have been settling by then. Patrol rotations were done, the evening meal had ended, and most of the pack had already slipped into the quieter rhythm that came after dark, when the corridors emptied slightly and the sounds of movement carried farther through stone.
The shouting sliced through the western passage anyway, sharp enough that wolves in nearby rooms paused to listen, and by the time Sable reached the open doors, the argument had already crossed the point where it could still be called an argument.
