At the front of Alpha Marcus’s suite, Beta Cedric surveyed the empty hallway.
Malakai was nowhere to be seen, but his lingering scent confirmed he had just left.
Cedric’s wolf stirred uneasily, growling at the faint traces of malice in the air. His sharp gaze caught a glint of metal on the floor—a knife lying abandoned.
He bent down to pick it up, his blood running cold as he turned it over in his hands.
The carvings on the blade were unmistakable: Padrone del sangue. Blood Master.
Cedric’s chest tightened, his wolf growling low in warning. The Blood Master wasn’t just a shadowy figure from their past; it was a threat that could upend everything.
“Malakai,” Cedric muttered, his voice taut with unease. “How the hell are you connected to them?”
The Beta clenched his jaw and stood,
