Marco’s POV
“Alpha Marco,” Dan said.
It wasn’t a question, but more as a statement. If it was meant to be a question, it didn’t sound like one.
“What were you hunting that made you throw knives?” I asked, my eyes landing on the metal glint in his hand — a few dented canisters of water.
“I didn’t see who was coming,” Dan started, his tone cold. “I only knew someone was approaching. Since I told the men there was no need to leave the campsite, I assumed it was an intruder.”
“That wasn't completely a good choice, but still a quick judgment,” I said, nodding slightly. “Good to know you haven’t lost your edge.”
“Yes, Alpha Marco,” Dan replied, a bitter smirk tugging his lips.
“Of course that couldn’t happen in one or two days now, could it? And as you already know—and have seen—making
