The SUV hummed along the dark Lycandran road, but the silence inside wasn’t peace. It was pressure—thick, hot, territorial pressure. Four Alphas in one vehicle meant the wards carved into the metal frame glowed faint silver, forced to contain the dominance humming through the cramped space.
They’d been talking about Myhral rogues for half the ride. Not strategy. Not politics.
Blood.
Callum had described their “solution” in that low, even tone of his—calm, clinical, like he was discussing the weather instead of tearing out a rogue leader’s throat with his bare hands.
My stomach turned. I tugged the blanket tighter around me like it could shield me from the image. (Spoiler: it couldn’t.)
And of course, Jaxon noticed. He always f*****g noticed.
“Scared, sunshine?” he drawled—velvet over
