“Send in a cleaning crew and jettison the bodies,” Jazin said, ignoring the looks he received as he walked down the corridor.
He was covered in blood. None of it was his. He had been ruthless, cold, deadly. He showed no mercy. Dakar, Armet, and Jarmen had stood to the side, never interfering and never condemning his brutality against the men who struck out against his family, especially his mate. He wanted to set an example of what would happen to anyone who dared.
The training room was a blood bath. He looked almost as bad. Blood covered him from head to foot. His chest was bare, long streaks of blood mixed with sweat ran down in eerie trails.
Dakar, Jarmen, and Armet followed behind him. Blood splatters covered the three of them, evidence of the violence behind the punishment. The sig
