Marrok scowled, shoving his wolf's voice aside with a sharp breath through his nose. They'd been through this too many times—he wasn't breaking his promise to Ulva for anything.
"Believe me, Marrok," Ulva whispered, her voice softer now, almost pleading—so different from the sharp and vicious tone she usually carried. Her pale fingers trembled slightly as they gripped the fabric of his jersey, knuckles white as if she feared he would disappear if she let go. "There's something very strange about that girl. I know what I saw… She's definitely one of them."
Marrok's jaw tensed, his golden eyes narrowing as they darkened with heavy contemplation. Shadows flickered in the hollows of his face, and for a long moment, he said nothing. Finally, he let out a slow, measured breath. "I believe you," he murmured at last, though unease lingered in his voice. "I'll look into her background and find out everything I need to."
