He had just given Zion their location while simultaneously ordering his own men to charge ahead so they could be killed faster and lessen the number of people who could testify against him.
A double-sided game.
A fucking dangerous one.
And Chase had been playing it perfectly.
First, before the Tigren Clan even reached the intended ambush site, Chase deliberately released the faintest trace of bloodlust and killing intent into the air.
It was barely anything, just enough to brush against the senses without becoming an obvious threat. But Tigrens possessed exceptionally sharp instincts. They could smell danger long before ordinary beasts or werewolves ever sensed it, and even that tiny fraction of killing intent was enough to make the hairs along their bodies rise.
And warn them that something was wrong.
Chase knew they would notice. He was counting on it.
