Zayn stalked through the dimly lit corridors of the packhouse, rage pulsing through his veins. His wolf clawed at his insides, demanding retribution. Hearing Martha’s recount brought back memories of his own.
Only one thing would satisfy his wolf now.
He descended the stone steps to the dungeon, footsteps echoing on the walls. The guards straightened immediately when they spotted him. They did little to hide the surprise on their faces. They hadn’t seen their Alpha this angry before.
He looked as if he was about to tear them to shreds.
“Alpha Zayn,” one of them acknowledged with a quick bow.
Zayn nodded tightly, “Where’s Xavier Brightpaw?”
The hounds seemed to sense his impending arrival, restless. The stench hit Zayn hard. Some of the guards wrinkled their noses, too. It was a mixture of filth, blood, and despair.
In the mess of hounds, Zayn saw him. Xavier, Lily’s brother. The tormentor who’d been the cause of both of their nightmares.
