The marking ceremony began in earnest.
Marcus stood at the ceremonial altar, but his mind kept replaying our last phone call. Something in my tone had unsettled his
wolf, an unease that grew stronger with each passing moment.
He turned to his Beta urgently, interrupting the ritual preparations.
“Find Sarah. She won’t let me mate another without causing trouble.”
As they finished the ceremonial toasts, Marcus led Rachel through the crowd of well–wishers.
The Beta rushed back, face ashen.
“Alpha!” he gasped, struggling to catch his breath. “There’s been an attack on the northern border! Sarah… she took a car to leave
pack territory. A group of rogues ambushed the vehicle at the crossing point.”
His next words fell like stones: “The patrol found the wreckage. No survivors. The rogues…” he swallowed hard, “they left
nothing to find.”
The ceremony fell silent.
The joy drained from Marcus’s face so quickly it was as if someone had pulled a plug, leaving him ghostly white.
His ceremonial goblet shattered on the ground.
Pack pride and ceremony forgotten, he grabbed his Beta’s collar with shaking hands. His eyes blazed with a mixture of fury and
raw fear that made the Beta flinch.
“What did you say?” he snarled, fangs dropping involuntarily. “Say it again! WHERE IS SARAH?”
Rachel stepped forward, trying to calm him. Her voice carried that soothing tone she’d perfected over years of secret meetings.
“Marcus, please,” she murmured, touching his arm. “Everyone’s watching. The pack elders are here. We can discuss this…
