The scent of blood reached us before the bodies did. It was the smell of copper and pine.
It carried on the wind from the outskirts, sharp enough to sting the back of my throat as we rushed beyond the council hall and down toward the southern boundary. Wolves ran in partial shifts, claws digging into packed earth, eyes flashing gold in the dimming light.
Four of ours lay near the treeline. I was worried why everyone was suddenly trying the shift form over a darkbreed.
I forced myself not to look too long at their faces.
Their throats had been torn cleanly. Efficient and brutal but not frenzied.
This was no rogue. This was deliberate.
Clay stepped forward, shoulders broad, wolf barely restrained beneath his skin. His aura pressed outward, Alpha dominance rolling like heat from a forge
