Verik was here. The vicious king who had no remorse and cut a man's head off with no mercy—no, Myra could recount how he was excited when he did it. He was a bloodthirsty tyrant.
Myra could still recall the mad look of exhilaration in his gaze when blood spilled on the tent carpet and Alaric’s head rolled.
Their laughter still haunts Myra as Reilania’s broken face pops in her mind and her heart squeezes. Myra finds her heart jumping from Draven’s growl.
He was not amused in the slightest if the Lucan kings appeared to his pack, as his eyes slit with deadly fury…
“That bastard is here again. Does he want a death wish?” Draven called as the alpha paced in his study just as Tarrin sighed.
“I hate to say it or admire it, but he does have the diplomatic right to be here for the death of a
