Redhawk Caldera So let me hold you tight and share a killer, diller, chiller, thriller here tonight

She was on-board. Peregrine clambered back to his feet, then waited for Fox to follow suit before setting off toward the borders. As the Alpha pair glided through the night, he scanned their surroundings. Nobody else seemed to be out and about at this hour. The night was very quiet. Nothing else caught his eye as they headed downhill and eventually arrived at the stockpile where he'd left the pig's carcass earlier.

"Fuck!" he cried when he saw that someone else had already looted the cache. Most of the pig was gone. Peregrine sniffed the ground, trying to identify the pig who'd eaten the pig. He didn't find any of their pack mates' scents. What he did smell made him growl ferociously, head lifting as he glared across the borders. His tail stiffened behind him and he bared his teeth.

"Ferret," he hissed under his breath, ears practically disappearing against his head as he snarled into the darkness. Their disowned son's presence at the borders—stealing their food—was not only a mood killer, it served as a stark reminder of why Peregrine and Fox shouldn't even be doing this. He was a bad, bad egg. What if they made more of them?

The Alpha turned toward his mate, knowing it was too late to un-ring that bell and realizing the only real solution was to kill her.