Exhausted, Avery Monroe collapsed onto the heavy furs of the sofa.

Miranda Shaw, having completed the patrol of the silver-lined perimeter, returned to the sanctum. She couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Avery’s ragged scent. “Avery, I know the Alpha-strain is heavy, but if you let your spirit break, Madison will catch the scent of your fear,” Miranda remarked, referring to Avery’s young pup.

Avery inhaled deeply, the smell of pine and old parchment filling her lungs. “You’re right. But how can I possibly maintain my dominance with Tyrone missing and the trackers finding nothing but cold stone?”

Miranda placed a thick, wax-sealed envelope on the low...