He raised his hand and knocked.
Silence.
He knocked again, harder this time.
Still nothing.
A cold smile spread across his lips.
“Break it down,” he ordered.
Two wolves stepped forward, their shoulders slamming against the door. It splintered on the second impact, swinging open to reveal the dark interior of the farmhouse.
Calin stepped inside.
His eyes swept across the room, searching for movement, for signs of life.
There was nothing.
The house was … empty?!
35
Claim
The furniture was still there-a worn couch, a wooden table, a cold fireplace. But there were no personal belongings, no signs of habitation. The kitchen cupboards were bare. The beds were stripped of linens.
Calin’s hands curled into fists.
“Search every room,” he growled. “Every corner. Every closet. I want them found.”
His wolves scattered, their footsteps echoing through the empty house.
Moments later, they returned, shaking their heads.
“Nothing, Alpha. They’re gone.”
Calin’s control snapped.
A roar of pure, unfiltered rage tore from his throat. He grabbed the nearest piece of furniture-
a wooden chair-and hurled it against the wall, shattering it into splinters.
“WHERE THE HELL ARE THEY?” he bellowed.
His wolves cowered, pressing themselves against the walls.
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