Marcus's Point of View

The air was dense with the metallic smell of blood.

The packhouse was in disarray, with bodies all over the floor and the sounds of snarls and ripped flesh reverberating through the hallways. My arms and torso were sliced fresh, and I hardly felt the pain. Now my wolf was in charge, every muscle tensing with deadly accuracy that had been refined over years of fighting.

With a quick twist, I broke the final rogue's windpipe, causing the body to fall to my feet. The brief silence felt unnatural, like a storm's eye.

I was about to unleash a storm and stop playing defense or wait...