Chase's POV:
One minute, I was holding the wrapper Leila had handed me. The next, a blur of white fur was streaking down the halls, her paws pounding against the stone floor with terrifying speed. A part of me admired how effortlessly she moved, her sheer power and determination radiating off her in waves. But the larger, more panicked part of me knew I needed to stop her.
If Leila reached her targets—whoever they were—there'd be nothing left of them. I wasn't sure how she knew who to hunt, but it didn't matter. I could feel her rage like a wildfire, burning through the bond we shared. And with my father's death still fresh, the last thing we needed was for my mate to be labeled a murderer, this time with actual evidence.
"Damon!" I barked, spinning toward where my brother had bailed earlier, hoping he hadn't gone too far.
No response. Of course, he'd run off, leaving me to clean up this mess. Great.
