Back at BloodFall Pack, the clang of steel still echoed faintly through the courtyard.
Devon rolled his shoulders as he stepped out of the training grounds, sweat clinging to his shirt. The elite unit Draven had ordered was shaping well—faster, deadlier, disciplined to the bone. Exactly how Draven liked his warriors.
Phil followed behind him, cracking his neck. “If Draven doesn’t praise this team when he gets back, I’ll assume he’s finally gone blind.”
Devon snorted softly but said nothing as he reached the study door and slid the key into the lock.
Just as he turned it—
“Beta Devon!”
Saxon came running down the corridor, breath uneven, his usual composure fractured. The urgency in his stride alone made Devon’s hand freeze on the key.
Devon turned sharply. “What happened?”
Without
