Kershov detected the faint tang of a strange female in the air, but he chose to ignore it, talons shredding down the side of yet another tree. Once splinters littered the ground and his paws were covered in fresh sap—the blood of the forest—the alabaster Alpha stepped back to admire his handiwork. Abendrot’s special brand of “Keep Out” signs worked like a charm; for the most part, cowards and scum steered well clear of the savage pack’s violence-tainted borders. This was how Kershov liked it. His pack housed proud soldiers, skilled assassins, cunning spies, and now talented healers—there was no room for the incompetent and useless.

With a final nod, the black-eyed beast pivoted away and made to stalk back into the forest. The deeper he receded into his territory, the farther behind the annoying perfume of the stranger wafted. Good. Now he could deal with real issues—

“What?” A howl sliced into the sky, one of Ker’s own requesting an audience. Tail arching high as a flag behind him, Kershov altered his course and headed toward another part of the border. Soon he beheld Burning Chaos, one of Abendrot’s finest soldiers. Chaos was in a rather aggressive stance, snarling at a harmless pregnant fae. Ker tipped his head and narrowed his bottomless eyes. Seriously? The girl barely looked as if she could crush an ant . . . but perhaps Chaos was simply aggravated with her obvious weakness. It would surprise the ivory Alpha. Chaos was one of the more . . . dangerous members of his pack.

Kershov stepped closer to the pair, light illuminating the ruined half of his face. An evil past foe had ripped the right half of Ker’s muzzle away, sewing scars over the bridge of his snout clear up to his cheekbone and exposing a row of glittering, terrifying teeth. The mask of a demon. “Stand down, Burning Chaos. You’ve done well.” The snowy Czar tipped his skull at his subject and turned his full attention on the white-and-black female; he made no effort to mask the judging glare that sized up her delicate body. “Not that I have a vendetta against pregnant women, but I would very much like to know why you stopped at my wall, as opposed to Spring Grounds—or perhaps Aurora Borealis. You do know where you are, don’t you?” He silently stared at her, tilting his head in curiosity. Kershov had taken in she-wolves with children before—but always for a good reason.