The den stank of blood and fear when the scout stumbled in, his body a wreck—fur torn, one eye a swollen mess, claws scraping the stone floor as he fell hard. I froze, my bare feet cold against the dirt, green eyes wide, watching from the shadows as the hall went dead quiet. Lucien lunged forward, his boots slamming the ground, a growl tearing from his throat, low and vicious. He dropped to his knees beside the scout, scarred hands gripping the wolf’s shoulder, ice-blue eyes blazing like a storm about to break. “What happened?” he snarled, voice rough, the air thick with tension, the metallic tang of blood choking me.
The scout coughed, wet and ragged, blood flecking his cracked lips. “Dax… sent a message,” he rasped, his voice barely there, shaking. “Hand over Selene… or the pack burns… by dawn.” My chest locked tight, green eyes fierce, the words hitting me like a blade, cold and sharp. Lucien’s growl deepened, his fingers digging into the scout’s shoulder, scars flexing under the t
