Morgan’s POV

The world didn’t end with the shot.

I remember a tearing heat that ripped through my stomach and spread like poison down my arm, into my blood.

Silver.

My wolf, Ragnar, howled inside me, clawing at the walls of my ribs, but there was nothing he could do except writhe with me.

Voices.

Too many of them. I couldn’t separate one from another.

Orders, panic, boots on the ground.

My name on the lips of that Lycan.

The moment he entered the room, I knew what he was.

He felt familiar ...