Harley’s P.O.V.

Carlos moved like a king claiming his throne and sat on the leather sofa across from us. He leaned back, one leg crossed over the other, hands clasped in front of him with a frightening stillness.

The crimson glow in his eyes flickered like dying amber. No rage, no urgency, just chilling control.

“Alpha!” I snapped, cradling Derek’s limp body. My hands drenched in blood made me ignore Carlos’s burning queries, as it wasn’t the time to cry over broken relationships.

“Why are you sitting like this?

Call the damn ambulance. Derek is bleeding out.”

Carlos titled his head, his expressions dead serious.

“Is he?”

Goddess!

As his...