Snowflakes fell lazily around the clearing in the Whievale, the crimson-soaked earth crunched under Lucien’s weight as he stood over Marcus.

The metallic scent of blood filled the air, thick and heavy. His stance was steady and his presence towering.

But at this moment though, Lucien paused, his breathing stopped as he furrowed his brows and slightly shifted back.

Marcus knelt in the snow. He was breathing fast, his gaze filled with fear as his eyes flickered across the clearing. ...