Mate's Vengeance
On the Alpha's orders.
The photographs spilled into her lap. Marcus, her beautiful Marcus, lying in that alley in a pool of his own blood. The coroner had called it a rogue attack quick, brutal, the kind of violence that happened sometimes when lone wolves went feral. Random. Meaningless.
But these photos told a different story. The positioning of the wounds. The precision of the kill. The way the scene had been staged to look like animal violence when it was clearly execution.
And there, in one photo, barely visible in the background a figure walking away. Too blurry to identify clearly, but the accompanying document had enhanced it, analyzed it, broken it down with cold, clinical efficienc