NARRATOR

“Holy Goddess,” she gasped, running to Nana’s naked body sprawled on the rug.

Lyra leaned over her—she was barely breathing.

The bruises and whip marks on that fragile skin told Lyra more than enough.

She turned to the Alpha beside her, stabbed with the dagger she’d stolen from Drakkar.

The male yanked it out of his neck without a second thought, kicking the corpse hard to flip it over.

The stunned expression was still frozen in his eyes, staring at the ceiling.

“She’s not breathing…”