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“That’s not all,” Magnus continues. “Rhett tried to finish the job at the hospital. His girlfriend slit Jefferson’s throat. He nearly died a second time. That’s when he took Aubrey.”

A vicious snarl rips from my chest. “Your Luna?”

“Banged up, but she is more worried about Aubrey. She sent me here. I managed to get dropped at the docks by the hospital helicopter. We came straight to the packhouse from there.” I nod, turning my attention to the fight. Despite being outnumbered, Rhett’s pack is clearly not as trained because his men fall too easily.

With that, we don’t waste any more time talking. Instead, we storm into Rhett’s packhouse, a furious whirlwind of claws and teeth. The inside of Rhett’s packhouse is a chaotic mess of overturned furniture and shattered glass. The air is thick with the pungent scent of blood and sweat, mingling with the sounds of snarls and cries of pain. Claws slash through the air as we tear through Rhett’s men, leaving trails of crimson across the walls and floors. The once pristine living space now resembles a war zone, with bodies strewn across the ground like discarded puppets. The scent of fear is thick in the air as we tear through room after room, overturning furniture and smashing down doors. But there’s no sign of Rhett. No trace of Aubrey.

Frustration builds in my chest as we reach the last room. I’m about to kick the last door in a hole when someone catches my eye. Rhett’s Beta, Kyle, tries to slink past us, heading for the stairs.

I’m on him quickly, slamming him against the wall with a clawed hand around his throat. Kyle is a wiry man with a sharp, angular face and eyes that dart around the room like a cornered animal. His skin is pale, sickly, and his hair is a matted mess that hangs limply around his shoulders. Despite his attempt to appear calm and collected, there’s an underlying tremor in his hands that clutches my wrists, betraying his fear as he struggles against my grip. “Where are they?” I roar, my face inches from his.

Kyle smirks, a defiant gleam in his eyes. Damian steps up beside me, his expression murderous.

“I’ve got this,” Damian growls. “I’ll make this runt talk.” I observe the fury in my brother’s eyes, recognizing the dangerous edge it brings. I also know if I am to deal with Kyle myself, my anger might boil over, leading to unintended consequences. Reluctantly, I step back, trusting Damian to extract the crucial information about Aubrey without crossing the line.

As I release Kyle and turn to leave, Beta Kyle stupidly spits out words that freeze me in my tracks.

“I don’t know why you want that bitch back. Rhett’s marked her now. Mated her good and proper. She’s his, you’re wasting your time.” The revelation hits me like a punch to the gut, the implications of Rhett’s actions echoing in my mind. If Rhett has truly marked and mated Aubrey, it complicates everything, binding her to him in ways that are hard to undo. This not only makes marking and changing her more important, it also ignites a new fury within me, one that demands blood.

White hot fury explodes. The edges of my vision turn crimson. I meet Damian’s eyes and he gives a curt nod. He shakes his head at the man and lets him go. I’m teetering on the precipice of losing control. Every muscle in my body is taut with the desire to unleash havoc upon Kyle. My fists clench, my nails biting into my palms as I fight to tether myself to reason. Yet, the vision of tearing him apart, limb by limb, is hard to resist. The anticipation of making him pay is almost too tempting to ignore.

“Just had to run your stupid mouth,” Damian tells him. This is just as I grab Kyle by the scruff and drag him into the nearby bedroom, throwing him to the floor. He scrambles back against the wall as I kick the door shut with a resounding thud.

Kyle lets out a nervous laugh, trying to mask his fear with false bravado. “You can’t hurt me,” he says, his voice wavering slightly. “You’re bound to uphold the laws that govern the packs. If you lay a finger on me before I get a trial, the council will have your head.” He smirks, a flicker of triumph in his eyes. “Not that it matters, anyway. Once the Vampire King takes charge, your days are numbered.”

I freeze. The Vampire King? What madness is this Beta spouting? I say nothing, keeping my expression carefully neutral as I take another step forward, closing the distance between us.

Kyle’s smug grin falters as I loom over him, my presence overwhelming in the confined space. The air crackles with tension, his heartbeat thundering like a frightened rabbit’s.

“You dare speak to me about laws?” I say, my voice a low, menacing growl. “I am the King. I am bound by no one.”

My words hang heavy in the air, dripping with dark promise. Kyle shrinks back against the wall, his earlier defiance quickly evaporating.

“Rhett marked my fiancée?” The words are poison on my tongue, each syllable laced with barely contained rage. “He dared to lay claim to what is mine. And you,” I lean in closer, my breath hot against his face, “you have the audacity to stand before me and gloat about it.”

Kyle trembles, his eyes wide with mounting terror. The stench of his fear permeates the room, a cloying sweetness that only fuels my anger.

“I am the King of your mongrel kind,” I snarl, my voice rising to a thunderous roar. “I am the apex predator here or did you forget?”

I seize Kyle by the throat, my claws digging into his flesh hard enough to draw blood. He whimpers, his hands scrabbling uselessly at my iron grip.

Chapter 25

• King Soren •

“You will tell me where my fiancée is,” I hiss with venom. “And if you refuse…” A slow, cruel smile spreads across my face. “I will make you beg for the mercy of death.” I step forward, my gaze unwavering. I can feel my power radiating through my body, and I can feel the terror radiating from the man in front of me.

I release my grip on Kyle’s throat, and he collapses to the floor, gasping for air. Slowly, deliberately, I shrug off my jacket, letting it fall carelessly onto a nearby chair. I unclasp my cufflinks, rolling up the sleeves of my shirt with measured patience while fighting the urge to rip the man to shreds. Kyle’s eyes widen in sheer panic, and he scrambles backward, trying to put distance between us. “Please, don’t—I don’t know anything!” he stammers, his voice trembling with fear. I crouch down beside him, my voice a low, menacing whisper. “Good,” I say, flexing my fingers as if ready to demonstrate just how easily I can snap his bones with my bare hands.

Kyle’s eyes dart frantically to the door, his body coiled tight with the desperate hope of escape. I crack my neck, the sound echoing through the room. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be, Kyle,” I murmur, with clear menace. “I don’t have time for games, and you don’t have the luxury of hesitation.” His breath hitches, and he shakes his head, still clinging to silence. “I see,” I say, my voice a chilling calm. “Then let’s see just how long you can hold out.” I rise.

“Do you know why Lycans are superior to werewolves?” I ask, my voice deceptively calm.

Kyle lunges for the door, his fists pounding against the unyielding wood, which jolts but doesn’t open since Damian, I know, is holding it closed. My claws slip from my fingertips, glinting in the dim light. The primal urge to hunt, to tear, to kill surges through my veins.

“Lycans are the pinnacle of evolution,” I say, stalking toward him with the grace of a predator. “We are faster, stronger, more resilient. Our senses are unparalleled, our healing abilities beyond compare.” I pause, letting that sink in as Kyle’s fear blossoms into an almost tangible haze. “You see, Kyle, we are not just beasts of instinct; we are the perfect blend of man and predator.”

I drag my claws along the wall. The grating sound causes Kyle to spin, his teeth gritting as he tries to bleed into the wall as if that will save him from me. The acrid scent of fear and desperation taints the air, and I breathe it.