Chapter 33 Roven's Rage

Roven stood in the middle of the great stone hall, his fists clenched so tight the veins along his arms bulged. His wolf pacing beneath his skin demanded blood. The scent of betrayal still lingered in the air, thick and cloying. Dane had been taken right from under his nose. His own son. Ulrich limped forward, favoring his injured side. “They had help. The old tunnels Raya must have led them.”