Lucas's POV

The pack house corridors feel like a cage as I pace outside the war room. Two days since we crushed those bastards, two days since Victoria slipped through our fingers like smoke, and we're still sitting here with our thumbs up our asses waiting for permission.

'Moira thinks I'm angry with her. Fuck.'

My wolf Thor claws at my control, demanding action, demanding blood. The image of our mate's tear-streaked face burns in my memory—the way she flinched when I ...