The rain had stopped, but the air still held its chill.

What was once a battlefield, drenched in the blood of two Alphas, now lay silent and still. The sound of rain had faded, replaced by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds who had returned in the wake of the storm. The grass, soaked and muddy, bore the prints of struggle, bloody imprints, marks of claws and fangs, a warzone left behind. A place where life and death had been intertwined, and victory had been paid for with blood.

I sat there, my back pressed against the cold earth, my hand resting gently on Leander’s...