Althea’s throat went dry. The cries outside grew louder, the sound of chaos closing in, and she knew something far worse was about to unfold. She bit her lower lip and prepared herself for the worst.

The sound of claws scraping against the walls made Althea’s blood run cold. A guttural growl followed, deep and feral. The corridor trembled as if something monstrous was moving closer.

With a violent crash, a massive white-furred lycan, its coat stained with blood, burst out of the shadows, ...