Darrian's POV
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The phone rang once.
Twice.
Three times.
I was half a second away from letting it go to voicemail when I saw the name flash across the screen.
Alpha Marcus Blackthorn.
My fingers twitched.
That name alone was enough to stir the wolf beneath my skin, teeth bared, fur bristling, begging for blood. I hadn't heard his voice since the Treaty Summit two years ago-where he'd spat words laced with arrogance and veiled threats.
I should've gutted him then.
I answered with a low growl. "Marcus."
"Well, well," came the voice on the other end, slick and venomous. "The infamous Alpha Darrian. I hear you've got something that belongs to me."
My hand clenched around the phone.
Heather.
Of course.
He knew.
"I don't have anything of yours," I said coldly. "But I do have
