Alpha Alaric
The communications specialist, a slick, trembling Gamma named Keith, stood rigidly before the massive mahogany desk, avoiding eye contact. My office was still thick with the residual scent of my earlier rage and the fainter, lingering stress of Desmond. I didn’t care about Keith's fear; I only cared about the information he was about to provide.
“Contact the operative immediately,” I commanded, leaning back in my chair, forcing a cold stillness despite the volcanic fury churning inside Thorne, my wolf. “I need a real-time report. Everything he saw in that human town. Detail by agonizing detail.”
Keith nodded frantically, his fingers flying across the custom console embedded in the desk. A few tense seconds later, a crackle filled the air, and a voice—low, gravelly, and clea
