Draven's POV
I sheathed my nails and willed my bare fangs to return to normal. My wolf growled with uncontrollable anger inside me and I had no choice buut to tamp him down.
The copper taste of blood lingered at the back of my throat as I dragged air into my lungs. Each inhale scraped, raw and punishing, as if my ribs had splintered inward. The courtyard still smelled of pine resin and cold stone, but it was drowned beneath the heavier scents of aggression, fear, and fresh violence.
My violence.
Leonard stood across from me, chest rising and falling like a beast barely leashed. His eyes glowed with a twisted sense of ownership, victory and madness. The kind of madness that made wolves destroy entire packs just to prove dominance.
A crowd had formed. Elders. Guards. Alphas. Witnesses.
