The mark looked like a botched tattoo, blurred and dark against his skin. I caught Malcolm’s eye; his pupils had narrowed to slits as he burned the image into his memory. Elias stood up, his expression unreadable as he calmly began placing the cuts of meat back into his cart.

"No harm done, Alpha Malcolm," Elias said smoothly. "I hadn't tightened the iron straps properly anyway."

"Still, my fault for bumping into it. Now you have to do the work twice," Malcolm countered. He signaled to a few nearby warriors to haul the meat inside to be processed for the young trainees' lunch.

"Don't you supply to Mrs. Chen as...