Back at the packhouse, the tension in the air is palpable as the warriors return from their search, their faces etched with fear and uncertainty.
They lower their heads, unwilling to meet Marcus's eyes, knowing the futility of their efforts.
"Alpha, we haven't gotten even the slightest track of them," one of the warriors reports hesitantly. The others shift uneasily, bracing for Marcus's reaction.
To their surprise, he merely smirks, a slow, knowing curve of his lips that sends a shiver down their spines.
"Don't worry about that," he dismisses, leaning back in his chair with an air of indifference. "I just wanted to keep you busy. If I wanted, I could find them myself in a blink of an eye."
His words are laced with arrogance, and though the warriors bow and retreat without another word, they do not leave without exchanging glances of silent apprehension.
Once the room is empty, Marcus rises, his movements smooth yet purposeful.
