MarcellousThree days later, We returned to the forest. The scent of rain and wet earth had long faded, replaced by the heavy, iron stench of fresh slaughter.Thirty rogues lay scattered across the mud like dropped puppets. Dead. Every single one of them.My warriors moved through the massacre with their weapons drawn, their bodies taut, expecting a hidden enemy to spring from the thicket. But there was no enemy. Only corpses.I stood in the center of the clearing, my heavy boots sinking an inch into the blood-soaked soil. The rain had stopped, leaving behind a cold, clinging fog that made the woods feel like a crypt. Beside me, Nate breathed in sharply, his claws half-extended, his eyes darting from one corpse to the next.There was no sound in the clearing except the heavy breathing of my Lycan guards. No birds. No insects. Even the wind seemed terrified to blow through these trees.One warrior whispered, his voice trembling—a sound I had never heard from a trained Lycan,“No weap
آخر تحديث : 2026-07-23
