Sebastian
The cold bit at my face as Soren and I rode through the dense, snow-laced forest.
Our wolves tracked Rowen’s trail for days—across half-frozen rivers, over ridgelines blanketed in fogs. His scent was faint, masked well, but not enough to fool our wolves and the noses of two furious Alphas.
We found his camp near the border of the Frostmarsh—a hasty thing, barely concealed by frost-cracked rocks and dead pine. But Rowen was gone.
Soren snarled beside me. “He was just here.”
“Coward’s running scared,” I muttered, scanning the terrain. “He knows we’re close.”
A low growl rumbled in my chest. Fenrir was clawing just beneath my skin. He wanted blood.
We doubled the patrols, sending wolves ahead and fanning out through the wilds. But it wasn’t us who found him.
Rowen was caugh
