The morning was quiet—too quiet. No one spoke. The only thing lingering in the air was the sharp scent of herbs, heavy and bitter, trailing from the witch even though she stood meters away.
Luca, ever the tough Alpha, lay unconscious. His body was covered in bloody bandages, and herbs stuck to his wounds like the only thread holding him together.
“Drink,” the witch ordered, lifting his head.
From the way his face twisted, I could tell the potion was bitter. But for the sake of his health, he swallowed it, forcing it past his throat with a grimace.
“We have to move,” the vampire's voice called from outside the ruin.
“I don’t think he’s stable enough,” Angel said softly, concern heavy in her tone.
“I can,” Luca muttered, struggling to sit up. “I’m the Alpha… don’t forget that.”
His wo
