Knox sat alone in his private study with a cup of ale growing warm before him. He had not touched it in over an hour, and had not moved from his chair since the sun had set. The oil lamp on his desk cast long shadows across the mounted weapons and hunting trophies that lined the walls. His hands rested flat on the desk.
He knew he was going feral. His bloodlust was becoming uncontrollable, and Knox knew what happened to feral wolves. It would not be long now before people started to notice his rage was not just ordinary, but his feral state. Enemies would exploit this.
The knock at his door interrupted his thoughts. Knox did not answer, but the door opened anyway. Zev entered, his eyes lowered respectfully, carrying a golden tray with two sealed letters. The warrior approached the desk with careful steps, set the tray down, and backed away.
"Two letters from the borders, Alpha."
"Leave," Knox growled without looking up.
