THIRD PERSON
The forest gives nothing away.
It swallows scent. Sound. Tracks. Everything!
And that frustrates Alpha Scavia more than anything else.
He moves through rogue territory like a shadow—silent, controlled, lethal—but even he cannot find her.
Not now. Not here.
His wolf paces violently beneath his skin, agitated, relentless.
She’s close.... She was here. But every trail ends the same way.
Gone. Erased, like the forest itself is hiding her.
“Nothing,” one of his men mutters, scanning the ground.
Scavia’s jaw tightens.
Useless, all of it!
He inhales deeply again.
Searches for that scent—
Soft. Sweet. Unforgettable.
But it’s faint now. Too faint.
His patience snaps.
“We’re done here,” he says coldly.
His men stiffen.
“Alpha—”
“We return,” he cuts in sharply. “Now.
