The moon hung low over Lucas’s kingdom, The wind stirred restlessly through the trees, and a cold silence gripped the night except for one sound: footsteps.
Draka moved like a ghost.
Cloaked in darkness, his towering form blended seamlessly into the shadows as he entered enemy territory. Every muscle in his body was coiled, alert, fueled by rage and the burning need to get her back.
His mate.
He signaled silently to his warriors stationed at the outskirts of the kingdom. They were to remain hidden, watchful. This wasn’t a fight meant for all of them. This was his fight. His mission. His woman.
He scaled the outer wall with inhuman ease, his body silent as smoke, his claws briefly scraping the stone before vanishing. Once inside, he pressed his palm to his chest and masked his scent, a
