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SIXTY SEVEN

HELIOS’ POV

The land of Crimsonhill is filled with filth. The midnight stars labour through thick smoke and tortured screams can be heard from the holding pens even from a mile away.

I kneel by the bushes not far from the entrance of Crimsonhill’s gate and raise a closed fist. My warriors, the chosen eight crouch silently behind me, all waiting for my order to attack. I have chosen eight of my best fighters; their stealth, speed and strength combine should be able to take out an entire army of Crimsonhill.

Marty was never one to train his warriors, and neither is he one who looks out for the wellbeing of his pack. As I look out from underneath a hood that covers my face, I see bodies; dead bodies piled one on top of the other right outside his pack gate, all rotting and filling the night air with the stench of death. Some were torture victims, others were pack members who tried to rise up against Marty’s inhumane

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