Alpha Lorenzo

I woke to the first light of dawn filtering through the heavy curtains, its gentle warmth a stark contrast to the cold knot forming in my stomach.

Something felt wrong.

An uneasy tension hung in the air, one that couldn't be ignored. I threw off the covers and dressed quickly, each movement driven by an unspoken urgency.

Stepping outside my room, I was met by Conan, his usually calm face marked by a grim expression.

"Lorenzo," he began, his voice low, "There’s been an attack."

The words hit me like a blow. "Who?" I asked, already fearing the answer.

"One of our own. The rogue witches struck in...