Blackfoot Forest [m] only devils left

Cole tracked the scent through the forest, his stride long and deliberate, his nose wrinkling as he followed the trail of Towhee Jr. mingled with something else—Tvar.

So, the bastard had found someone.

The thought twisted in his gut, and Cole’s expression darkened, a grimace forming as the scent of her heat thickened in the crisp winter air. She was so young, too young, and now this. His pace quickened, his jaw tightening as he pressed forward, his thoughts sharp and cutting like the cold air around him.

And then, the scent of another—unmistakable, unwelcome.

He emerged through the trees, his amber eyes narrowing at the sight before him. Towhee Jr. stood in the shallows, the water lapping at her legs, and there, lingering like a shadow, was a figure he recognized. The same male who had pestered Zephyra not long ago.

Cole's lip twitched, his grimace deepening as he stepped into the clearing, his presence deliberate and undeniable. He stopped short of the water, his gaze shifting between the two, lingering on the male with a glare that carried no small measure of warning.

Looks like you found your way back to the wrong place, he growled lowly, his voice steady but firm, a rumble that cut through the quiet like a blade.