Damon’s patience was wearing thin.
The rogue attack had been brutal—too brutal to be random. Something about it felt orchestrated, deliberate. And now, standing at the scene where his patrol had found the remains of one of their own, his instincts screamed at him that this was more than just a rogue wandering too far into another pack’s land.
The scent of blood still lingered in the air, though the corpse had been removed hours ago. Deep claw marks marred the trees, their jagged edges still fresh, and the dirt beneath his boots was stained dark. Damon crouched low, dragging his fingers through the dried blood. The metallic scent burned his nose, but something beneath it caught his attention—something off.
Lucas knelt beside him. "Does this seem normal to you?"
"No." Damon shook his hea
