The Alpha's Hardest Game
Two hours later, the war room in the central tower was an absolute furnace of administrative fury.
Magnus stood at the head of the long slate table, his massive fists slammed against the surface, his True Alpha aura radiating a suffocating, lethal heat that made the lower-ranking enforcers near the door tremble. Vard stood to his left, his face pale, his jaw locked in a tight, humiliated line.
"An escape?" Magnus roared, his voice rattling the glass windows of the high command. "An asset chained in a Triple-A reinforced containment chassis simply vanished over a logging bridge? In my territory?"