Lothaire’s POV
The news reached me through a coded message from a loyal guard within my sons’ pack. It was a single, chilling sentence that ignited a white-hot rage in my chest: The Luna has been poisoned. The message was vague, lacking details, but it was enough. The sheer incompetence of my sons, my own blood, was a bitter, nauseating taste in my mouth. They were Alphas, powerful and lethal, and yet they could not even protect the one she-wolf who was meant to be their mate, the future Luna of our lineage.
I arrived at the Ferguson estate with no warning, my rage a cold, contained storm beneath a calm exterior. My wolf, a powerful, ancient beast, snarled in my chest, a low, frustrated growl of disappointment. The scent of my sons, their combined aura of arrogance and confidence, was a
