Liam's POV
The stench hit me first.
Even with the overpowering lemon scent trying to mask it, the unmistakable smell of death filled my nostrils as I stepped into the small shed. My wolf recoiled inside me, hackles raised in warning.
Beside me, Silas gagged, turning away.
"Holy shit," he muttered, pressing his sleeve against his nose. "What the fuck is that?"
I forced myself to look at what lay in the center of the dirt floor. The body—what remained of it—was sprawled unnaturally, limbs twisted at impossible angles. The face was barely recognizable, features distorted by rapid decomposition. But I knew who it was.
"That's Rhys," I said, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. "From the Silver Creek Pack."
The young wolf's body was decaying at an alarming rate, flesh sloughing off bone in places. His clothes were soaked with dark fluids, and the ground beneath him had turned to black mud.
