Long before the alarm went off, the smell of blood was in the air.

The first howl, which was lengthy, frantic, and desperate, tore through the air while I was on patrol close to the eastern crest. Outlaws. There are too many of them.

My wolf half-surfaced beneath my skin as I ran through the pines. The sound of steel, snarls, and the moist snap of claws on bone filled the jungle.

Blood Moon was already struggling for its life when I arrived at the clearing.

Wearing the black insignia of the ...