Drusilla walked hurriedly through the cold stone corridors, her breath hitching with every step. The image of the jagged arrow in Arielle’s hand and the blood-stained cloth wouldn't leave her mind. She stopped before the heavy, iron-reinforced doors of the Alpha King’s chambers, her hands clenched tight around the hem of her apron.

Two guards blocked her path, their spears crossing with a metallic clack before her chest.

"The Alpha King is resting," the guard on the left grunted. "No ...