Damien
The rogue attacks weren’t random.
I knew that much.
They were too precise, too calculated—targeting packs that had once been strong, but were now weakened. Packs with bloodlines that held importance.
The realization settled heavily in my chest as I stepped over the remnants of yet another s*******r. The smell of blood was thick in the air, mixing with the damp earth. I clenched my fists, anger simmering beneath my skin.
This was the third attack in two weeks.
And yet, not a single rogue body had been left behind.
They didn’t fight to win. They fought to kill and disappear or get killed before getting interrogated.
I knelt, pressing my fingers against a dried bloodstain on the ground. The metallic scent burned my nose. There was something off about it—something wrong. I narro
