POV: Clara

The chain shrieked. Screws were yanked out of splintered wood, and the door frame shuddered like it knew it couldn’t hold. Jenny’s hand was white around the umbrella. Daniel pressed his palm to the door, his claws buried deep, shoulders drawn tight. Gold burned in his eyes, and the tether inside of me thrummed hot and merciless.

The wolves outside laughed. Low. Cruel. The kind of sound that should only come from old nightmares.

“She’s shaking,” one of ...