Alpha’s Enemy, Alpha’s Mate
“Running to the rescue again, boss? You’ll make the council gossip.”
Dante didn’t look back. “Let them talk.”
He rode through the city like fire, every instinct pointing him toward the tunnels. The closer he got, the stronger the pull. Smoke and blood thickened the air, mingling with the scent he’d memorized without meaning to: steel, rain, and stubborn defiance.
When he reached the entrance, guards lay dead—Blackthorn colors torn to shreds.
“Damn it, Aiden…”
He dropped into the dark.
He found him minutes—or maybe hours—later, lying half-buried in dust and blood. The light from Dante’s flashlight fell across torn fabric, pale skin, and too much red.
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