“I want to see our mate.”
Fenrir’s voice thundered through Talon’s mind, raw and restless, carrying a hunger that had nothing to do with blood or battle.
“I want to smell her again,” Fenrir growled. “Taste her scent on the wind. Feel her presence. Let’s go find her.”
Talon’s jaw tightened as he resisted the pull—not because he didn’t want the same thing, but because he knew Fenrir was seconds away from breaking loose.
“Do not waste time with this Alpha and his pathetic drama with his Luna,” Fenrir snarled. “None of this matters. Only mate matters.”
“I know,” Talon answered quietly, his own control straining. “We will find her.”
He turned back once more, fixing Asher with a gaze that held neither pity nor mercy—only finality.
“Alpha Asher,” Talon said coldly, his voice carrying acros
