A group of maids with black umbrellas came running through the mud, skirts drenched, sandals slapping as they rushed toward the clearing where Maya had fallen to her knees.
Alpha Logan had scented them from afar, the tang of soap and sweat, their fear threading the air like a warning.
His eyes narrowed, claws flexing. He grabbed Alpha Rio by the collar, the man still kneeling in the mud with trembling limbs, and dragged him roughly behind a crumbling wall.
Rain poured off the ledge, streaming down Logan’s bare shoulders, tracing the scars and muscle along his spine. His breathing was heavy, uneven, rage clawing under his skin.
“I feel uneasy watching her cry,” Logan muttered, voice low, eyes locked on Maya’s hunched figure as she sobbed in the mud.
His wolf snarled in his head, “You
