The night was thick with tension, the full moon casting an eerie glow over the island. It should have been peaceful, but that night, it became a battlefield.
Alaric had perceived them the moment they arrived. The stench of werewolves fouled the air, tainting the sanctuary of the island. His crimson eyes gleamed with cold calculation as he stepped into the darkness.
Be fore leaving, he had asked Ravenna not to leave the house no matter what, but he was still worried. Considering her stubborn nature, he was afraid she would follow him, so he did not go far away.
He moved soundlessly through the dark and rather dense forest. He was barely two hundred meters from the house when the unmistakable scent of wolves intensified. He stopped, his sharp gaze scanning the darkness.
Then, from the shadows, they emerged. A dozen werewolves emerged, both shifted and unshifted, surrounded him. Their growls rumbled in the air, fangs bared, muscles coiled.
