Grace pov
I had made it exactly three blocks from the community center when the howls started.
I froze mid-step, my wolf surging forward with alarm. Those weren't normal howls—they were wild, savage, full of bloodlust and madness. Rogues. Lots of them.
"Grace!" My grandfather's voice cut through my moment of shock. "We need to go back. Now."
They ran.
My newly ranked Alpha status had come with heightened instincts, and right now every one of them was screaming danger. I could smell the blood on the wind before we even reached the parking lot, could hear the sounds of battle—snarls and screams and the wet sound of flesh tearing.
The scene that greeted them was c*****e. Rogues everywhere, far more than should have been able to organize themselves into a coordinated attack. Pack wolves
