It started with smoke. Thin trails curling under the doors, then bursting into the room in choking gray clouds. Wolves coughed, rose to their feet. And then the assassins poured in—masks, blades, no pack scent. Rogues.
It was mayhem. Howling, screaming and death.
I barely had time to gasp before Alpha Gregor was on me. His arm crushed me against him, his body shielding mine like a wall of muscle and fury.
“Stay behind me.”
The next moments were a blur of claws and steel. A blade slashed near my arm—I yelped, the sting hot and sudden—and Gregor roared. Not spoke. Roared. His warrior dark wolf nearly tore free as he ripped the attacker aside like a ragdoll. Blood spattered marble. Sugar, in the corner, eyeing Prince Leon like he was the vintage wine, hurled her wine glass at another rogu
