**ADRIAN'S POV**
My hands dripped red as I carried the body out of the room, her weight limp and cold against my arms.
The coppery scent of blood clung to me like a second skin, laced faintly with the sweet, herbal oils she must have used on her hair.
I wasn't a murderer. Gods, no.
But I had killed before—enough times that this wasn't my first, nor did it send me spiraling into panic.
Being the Alpha's son meant I'd grown up at the edge of violence, fighting my father's enemies whenever a rival pack dared to test our strength. Death was no stranger to me.
But for this girl, I had shifted halfway into my wolf, striking so fast and clean at her throat that even Brielle had blinked in shock.
She wouldn't understand.
She was probably still questioning why I didn't keep the girl alive, why I didn't just buy her silence.
But she'd heard too much. Far too much.
