Caleb’s POV:
We’d just finalized the funeral arrangements and were knee-deep in interrogation strategies—methods to flush out the remaining rats in our pack—when my phone rang.
Nathan.
Probably calling to check in on the morning’s pack gathering. He’d stayed behind to keep an eye on Mira—make sure the little traitor didn’t run off to Sanders again. The last thing I needed today was that weak little b***h slipping through the cracks and feeding him more intel. I hadn’t decided exactly how to deal with her yet, but I was leaning toward using her—let her lead us to Sanders. After that? Torture. A slow, brutal death. Something fitting for her betrayal.
I answered the call with a low growl still clinging to my throat.
“Caleb,” Nathan’s voice came through—sharp, raw, breathless. “It’s Mira.
