NARRATOR

If Dracomir’s jaw hadn’t been so firmly attached to his skull, it would’ve dropped to the floor in shock.

Through the cracks that shattered the entire ground and shook the fortress’s foundations, some humanoid figures jumped out, screaming.

"Dracomir… it’s those degenerates!" Alan shouted too, stunned.

They would never forget them, not even in a thousand years. So many emotions stirred inside his chest, rage took over... until he realized they were just corpses.

The heads that had been ripped off were now stitched back onto their shoulders with threads of fate. Undead, moved by some kind of powerful magic.

The massive wolf looked up again at the woman high above. Standing tall, untamed, commanding with a guttural voice like a sinister symphony, the very men who had once made her life a living hell.

«I created an army for you»

That’s what Victoria had told him, and both Dracomir’s and Alan’s chests swelled with pride.

How many secrets did she keep hidden inside?

His female was