Marcus POV
“Hello, Marcus,” Clyde drawled, his eyes gleaming with madness. The sword still protruding from Asher’s chest, blood seeping down the blade. Marcus growled, stepping in front of the injured Alpha.
“What the hell are you doing, Clyde?” Marcus demanded, with narrowed eyes.
Clyde’s grin twisted further, an eerie look of satisfaction crossing his face. “He was weak,” Clyde spat, nodding toward Asher, who was now gasping for breath. “They’re all weak. You don’t understand, Marcus. The only way to win is to take them out—one by one. I won’t be left behind.”
Marcus’s hands tightened into fists. The forest’s whispers had driven many to madness, but this…this was something else. Alastair had gotten into Clyde’s head.
“You’ve lost it, Clyde,” Marcus said, his voice steady but filled
