In a smoky underground tavern carved into the side of a jagged ridge, the air reeked of sweat, blood, and spiced liquor. A fight had just ended—judging by the broken table and the blood on the walls—and the victor now sat in the corner booth, flanked by his men and nursing a cut across his cheek like a war medal.
Xavier leaned back into the cracked leather seat, golden eyes gleaming in the dim light as he lit a cigar. His knuckles were bruised, his jaw tense. Beside him, Kade his best friend and right hand man, poured whiskey into two chipped glasses, his expression unreadable.
A scout burst into the tavern, breathless, eyes wide.
“You’re not going to believe what I just heard.”
Xavier didn’t flinch. “Try me.”
The scout licked his lips. “Valen territory has a new Alpha. Rayne Valen.”
