Fenrir’s POV
The subterranean archives of the Crimson Moon keep were completely silent, the damp, heavy air smelling thickly of ancient dust, rotting leather, and profound, inescapable despair.
I didn’t take an entire squad down into the darkness with me. I walked alone, the heavy tread of my boots echoing ominously against the stone walls. My beast was thrashing wildly against my ribs, demanding blood. Raze wanted to tear Anton limb from limb for daring to put Lyra in the crosshairs of an assassin’s blade. The absolute, blinding rage I felt toward my adopted son was a physical, burning weight in my chest.
When I reached the heavy iron doors sealing the quartermaster’s section, Commander Torin and General Nate were standing guard.
General Nate was a massive, grizzled veteran of the bor
