Redsand Canyon her flesh held the scent of honeysuckle drenched in battle

The smaller is pressing herself against him like he truly is her only lifeline — the only thing that's keeping her a float right now. Really he is, it hardly looks like she can stand and he does his best to stay still and sturdy beneath her as to not let her fall. Eventually, she’s able to gain her balance and sadly enough their bodies part. Her thin legs struggling to keep her up and her broken body is practically shivering and writhing with the struggle to keep upright.

To answer her question, he doesn’t know who would. He gives her a silent shake of his head. There’s not even a blip on his radar. Why would they hurt Awenfen if they wanted to hurt Donovan. If they wanted to hurt him they’d have gone for his pack. So they probably had the intention to hurt her the most. 

Then she seems to have an epiphany. Only two other men. One being a former mate and the other a the Emperor of the pack in the Vale just above. At this point he’s confused and stares at her with furrowed brows. “Why then?” Is all he asks. Probably something they’re both asking. 

Though he’s easily distracted as the sickly blue moonlight catches on her wounds, the simplistic outline of what looks to be a bull is carved or branded into her flesh. His stare becomes more intense. The bull is a symbol of strength, it resembles him pack. His father was able to take down a bull once, hence the reason he made the animal the symbol of the Saints.

“There’s a fucking bull carved into you. That’s the symbol of my pack. This is obviously a targeted attack.” He almost growls. Not to her of course, rather anger fills his senses towards whoever thinks they can fuck with the Saints and get away with it.