The moment I step into the hotel, an unsettling tension grips me.
It's an instinct, a primal warning deep in my gut—one I've learned never to ignore.
The lobby is crowded with Alphas and Betas, their scents thick in the air, a mix of sweat, cologne, and desperation.
I barely register the greetings thrown my way, ignoring the eager glances from those who want my attention.
As a prince, I'm used to this—the whispered admiration, the forced smiles, the unspoken expectations.
But right now, I couldn't care less.
Something is wrong.
I stalk through the hallway, my steps quick and purposeful. By the time I reach our hotel room, my pulse is hammering, my Lycan pacing inside me.
I swipe the key card, the lock clicks, and I push the door open.
Silence.
The air feels… empty.
Delilah's scent lingers—caramel—but it's faint, lacking the warmth it usually carries. I scan the room, taking in every detail.