Drake struggled against Lola, trying to yank back the ruin of his wrist and hand. She wouldn’t let go no matter how hard he struggled. She was unmoving, like a mountain. And then there were the eyes. Those horrible, silvery eyes. What were they? He’d never seen anything like that before. They weren’t the eyes of a werewolf, or at least no werewolf he’d ever known or heard of. What could she be?

“Let go!” he screamed out, sounding like an ill-mannered child throwing a ...