I needed to gather myself, to keep my composure. No one among these warriors could have known me in my wolf form. Even I struggled to recognize my reflection when transformed. To them, I was nothing more than a shroud wolf, an Omega—one who was supposed to be dead. There was no reason for them to find me suspicious. Yet, the cold glint of their swords, all directed at me, argued otherwise.

“Reveal your mortal form,” the nearest warrior demanded, his voice edged with authority.

Damn ...