Dan Pov
I caught Eron's eye from across the fire and gave a slow nod.
It was time.
The first wave hit the packhouse fast. My best fighters — Jace, Kain, and the other wolves whose names would be sung in the songs of conquest.
They took the main hall first. Slit throats, shattered skulls. No one was left to scream.
I strode through the carnage like a man walking home.
Victoria stood in the courtyard, her dress stained with blood, beautiful and savage. She gave orders like a queen, pointing out the homes of the loyal.
"There," she'd say, flicking her hand. "Leave no one alive."
Our wolves fanned out. Doors smashed in. Knives and claws did the rest.
Batista's children were the first to fall.
Cowards might have hesitated — but I had no use for cowards.
The twins, Jace and Kain, dragged the oldest boy from his bed, a blade slicing his throat before he could even call out. The little ones didn't suffer long. I made sure of it.
His Luna was harder.
