And if they had dared to attack a human woman here, it meant something far worse.
Someone had let them in.
The thought sent a chill down her spine.
Minutes later, word came through the police radio.
The victim—a young woman, terrified and disheveled—had been found near the eastern cliffs. She was alive but shaken, her clothing torn, her body bruised.
She had fought back.
She had survived.
And now, she was being taken to the infirmary.
Shanna clenched her fists.
This was only the beginning.
Later that evening, Shanna left the station with Grant, her husband, eager for a private dinner at an upscale French restaurant inside the grandest hotel in Red Island—a property owned by none other than the Alpha King himself.
The intimate ambiance of the restaurant, with its soft golden ligh
