The return of Marcus to the Blood Moon estate did not bring the anxiety of a failed mission, but a cold, suffocating silence that paralyzed everyone in the Alpha's private study. Outside, the storm continued to batter the reinforced glass windows, a brutal mirror to the internal tempest brewing within the pack’s hierarchy. Devandra stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling window, his heavy silhouette framed against the flashes of lightning illuminating the rain-drenched valley of his territory. He didn’t look at the empty desk where the half-million-dollar briefcase used to sit, nor did he care about the wealth he had willingly sacrificed. His entire attention was locked onto the single, terrifying message Marcus had just delivered from Manhattan.
“Let him march his entire pack into my city.
