|| Alaric's POV ||

The scent of rotting leaves and wet earth filled my lungs as I crouched in the underbrush, the moon a sliver of silver behind the clouds. The south border was alive tonight— not with the usual rustle of prey or the distant howls of pack wolves, but with something darker.

Rogues.

Ezra shifted beside me, his grey brown fur blending into the shadows. Even in wolf form, I could see the tension in his haunches— the same restlessness that had Hunter clawing ...