Rumors flew, fast and reckless—every territory had the story by the third day. Black Hollow? Gone. Slaughtered in a night. The Blood Alpha did it alone and left bodies swinging from charred gates like warnings he meant to be heard. He chased assassins across borders without so much as a nod to the Alpha Council, executed wolves who’d already given up, and—maybe worst of all—he smiled.
Rogues in the east whispered his name like it’d curse their lips. Up north, the warriors muttered that Silver Crest’s Alpha was unraveling. Rival Alphas felt that chilly shift inside: fear morphing into concern. Kael wasn’t acting like an Alpha anymore. He’d crossed some hidden line—a wolf with nothing left except the drive to protect his mate. Wolves like that? You couldn’t keep them on a leash.
In Iron Fa
