"If this stupid little plan of yours fail, your son won't be the only Hawthorne I destroy."
Rage's voice cut through the pre-dawn stillness, his breath forming clouds in the frigid air. The eastern sky had just begun to lighten, painting the snow-covered landscape in shades of gray and blue.
Around them, warriors from both sides—werewolf and vampire—moved with quiet efficiency, loading weapons and supplies into vehicles.
Zereth turned to him, crimson eyes gleaming in the half-light. "Your threats grow tiresome, wolf. Save your energy for the battle ahead."
"It's not a threat," Rage said, his voice dropping lower.
The vampire studied him for a moment, then nodded almost imperceptibly. "Fair enough."
They stood atop a ridge overlooking their makeshift camp—a once-abandoned mining outpost now buzzing with activity. The sight was unprecedented: werewolves and vampires working side by side.