The moment I found her, my fated mate, the only thing good and right in my dark, hollow life, she was taken from me by my enemies.
She was gone, ripped from my arms, a feeling more painful than if my heart had been torn from my chest.
I changed that day. I didn’t see myself as Odhran any longer, loyal soldier to the king of the Scottish Lycans. I became scarred, emotionless… soulless.
And over the decades I became stronger, more deadly. I became a killing machine, a warlord who took lives because mine had no meaning now.
I realized I’d became this male for a reason, a purpose. To take down the organization who stole and enslaved what was mine by right and fate.
And I knew that because I found her. I found them.
They thought they could take her, keep my mate from me. They didn’t know I’d destroy them because of it.
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