RYDER

Palmer races toward me, shifting in the process. I shift, too, marveling at how easy it is now that every trace of silver is gone from my system.

I swipe him with my paw, right on his neck, missing his artery. He bleeds, though. His blood splatters on the ground, turning black in minutes. We face each other, snarling. As an Alpha-born, I'm larger than him, but he's trained in combat, so he's supposed to be the most experienced fighter between us.

His bleeding throat disorients him, ...