Alaric's POV
The man Enzo just called dad stepped forward from the shadows, slow and calculated like a predator stalking his prey. The dim light caught the edge of his face, and though his expression was unreadable blank, cold, hollow I could feel the weight of his presence pressing down on us like thick smoke. Every instinct in me screamed danger.
My fangs pulsed beneath my gums, aching for release. The scent of him clawed at my throat acrid, bitter, unmistakably laced with silver and old blood. Hunter. He didn't just smell like one. He was one. He carried the weight of death on his shoulders like a badge of honor.
