My heart slammed against my ribs like a war drum, each beat faster than the last as I tore through the forest roads.
The towering trees blurred past, shadows clawing across the headlights as I pushed the car harder, tires skidding over loose gravel. I didn’t slow. Couldn’t. My mind was locked on the one thing visible in the distance—the packhouse, its silhouette barely piercing the treeline, flickering like a dying flame.
Then I cracked the window.
And it hit me.
Blood.
Thick, coppery, and overwhelming. Underneath it, smoke. The stench of burning wood and charred cloth. A metallic tang that clung to the air like a curse.
My wolf surged beneath my skin.
It snarled, restless and violent, pacing just under the surface. I felt it in my chest, vibrating through my bones like a warning. This wasn’t some border skirmish or mindless rogue attack. This was coordinated. Deliberate.
And I knew—knew—Lucien had something to do with it.
I gritted my teeth and pushed the gas harder, the engine roaring like a beast as I closed in.
When I reached the clearing, the scene hit me like a punch to the gut.
Scorch marks streaked across the earth. Smoke drifted from the eastern wall. Blood stained the steps. The scent of fear and ash lingered thick in the air.
The moment I slammed the brakes and jumped out, the packhouse doors flew open.
Xavier came running toward me.
He looked like hell. His dark hair was soaked with sweat and blood, his shirt torn, dirt streaked across his face. One arm hung slightly lower than the other—dislocated or broken. He’d shifted. Fought.
“Damien,” he called out, breathless, urgency cutting through every syllable.
I didn’t wait. “What happened?”
“They hit us again,” Xavier said, wiping blood from his brow. “Just like last time. No warning. No message. They didn’t go after supplies or land this time.”
I already knew what he was going to say before the words even left his mouth.
“They went for our people.”
My chest went still.
Xavier’s jaw clenched. “We lost… the clairvoyant.”
The world tilted for a moment.
“What?” I asked, even though I heard him perfectly.
“She didn’t make it,” he said. “They went straight for her. No hesitation. Like they knew she was the threat.”
I didn’t speak.
Couldn’t.
A cold weight sank into my gut. The clairvoyant had been our edge—our link to truth. The only one who had seen through Lucien’s shadows, who could pull the truth from the veil before he could cover his tracks.
And now she was gone.
Murdered with precision.
No. This wasn’t an attack.
It was a message.
And I heard it loud and fucking clear.
I forced a breath into my lungs, grounding myself. My wolf howled in my chest, demanding blood, demanding justice. But I couldn’t let rage rule me—not yet.
Later. When it was time to hunt.
Right now, I needed answers.
“Tell me you caught one,” I said, my voice low and sharp—cold steel drawn from its sheath.
Xavier nodded grimly. “We did. Barely. He’s still half-alive. Might talk if you push him hard enough.”
“Where is he?”
“The holding cells.”