The battlefield was painted in red. The air reeked of blood and death, and the groans of the wounded mixed with the eerie silence that followed the chaos.
Alpha Theo stood among the corpses, his body drenched in blood—some his own, most belonging to those who had dared to attack his pack.
His men were exhausted, their breaths ragged, their weapons stained.
"Are these all of them?" Theo asked, his voice hoarse but firm.
One of his warriors, Damon, wiped the blood off his forehead and nodded. "Yes, Alpha. I think none escaped."
Theo exhaled, his muscles aching from the relentless battle. "Good… Tidy up everywhere. Burn the bodies if necessary. No traces."
As his men moved swiftly to follow his orders, Theo's gaze locked onto something or someone in the shadows.
A presence so chilling that it sent an unnatural shiver down his spine.
"Who is that?" Theo asked himself, as his voice was barely above a whisper.
