CHAPTER 24: THE MARK THAT SAVED HER
CALEB'S POV
The window frame was still raining glass when my boots hit the ground.
I landed in a crouch, the impact shuddering up through my knees and spine, and rose out of it already moving—already scanning. The pack grounds looked wrong. The kind of wrong that bypasses thought and goes straight to instinct, that strips everything back to teeth and claws and the single, animal understanding that something has come into your territory that should not be breathing.
Shadows moved where shadows shouldn't.
They were everywhere.
Not flooding in loudly, not howling war cries—that wasn't how vampires operated. They slipped between the lampposts and the trees like water finding gaps in stone, fast and cold and utterly silent, and the only warning you got was the gleam of yellow eyes in the dark and then they were already on you.
