Darren

I hunted in the shape the Goddess gave me for war.

My white lycan poured down the northern lawns with half a kingdom of fur behind me, hundreds of noses, the best trackers alive, and I ran at the front of them with my daughter’s scent thread caught in my teeth and my mind running a parallel hunt I could not call off.

Ally, crumpled in the middle of that cold room, with her hands open around nothing.

I had seen my mate take a knife meant for her heart. I had seen her stand in chains, ...