"Lord Ryker!"
Odessa's voice ripped across the packlands like a god's verdict.
Lightning split the sky, rumbling in sync with her fury, and the blood rain poured harder. The air stank of metal and ozone.
I stormed down the steps of the event hall, ignoring the crimson downpour soaking my tuxedo. My eyes searched desperately for her silhouette while my hand dug into my pocket for my phone.
"Sir."
The voice made me whip my head to the left.
Layla.
She stood two meters away, still as a stone. Her dress clung to her from the rain, her eyes empty like a doll's. My jaw clenched.
"Where the hell have you been?" I snapped, stalking toward her. My voice was a growl. "What's the situation? I was about to—"
"Rogue werewolves have breached the gate." Her tone was cold enough to frost glass. "They're attacking the pack members who aren't at the festival."
My grip on the phone loosened. For a split second, all I could hear was Odessa's voice still thundering overhead:
