Ethan's POV
The afternoon sun glared off the asphalt, but all I could see was the spot where she'd vanished.
Her scent still lingered—faint, warm, terrified—haunting the air like a ghost I couldn't chase.
Soraya was gone.
A cold, hollow part of me recoiled. I tasted iron on my tongue and felt every second stretch out like a blade—each moment without her was unbearable, an accusation.
I could still feel her fear pulsing in my veins, my wolf pacing violently beneath my skin. This wasn't random. This was coordinated.
And that only meant one thing.
"Rogues," I hissed, the word tasting like venom. "It must be the damn rogues."
But rogues didn't organize hits in the middle of the city. Not like this. Not with precision. Someone was pulling strings—and I already knew who my first suspect was.
Leonidas.
The thought alone set my teeth on edge
