l P

, the white of her ruined dress a beacon in the sterile hallway, sent a savage thrill t

you alright? The scene has been secured. We've planted evidence to suggest a f

ndow, watching as her small car sped out of the hospit

h the gauze, the skin was already knitting itself back together, the gash closing with the rap

is loyalty warring with his confusion. "S

shed. I turned from the window and poured myself a glass of whiskey from the decante

self than to him. "This was the only way to do it

r as the other half of my soul. But she was wolfless, unable to feel the bond, and I was a monster, my own wolf a raging beas

perfect opportunity. His engagement to her was an ins

, the words a low growl. "Sh

he security layout for the church. "Alp

aint, cruel smile pla

e omega have her fun. Let her draw first b

mari

ce, his voice, his touch-they were burned into my memory. I finally made it back to my

f the apartment was deafening. My head throbbed, the faces of Clemont and Kaylen swimming

wash it

the hot water sluice the mud, blood, and grime from my body. I scrubbed my skin until it wa

eyes wide and haunted. But as I looked deeper, I saw something else fli

ng. I thought of my mother, lying in a coma in a long-term care facility

r, he wouldn't have the good life he has now. Yet now, my mother lies sick in bed, suffering from illness, while my father,

tect my moth

bathroom counter, lit up. Anothe

sn't text this time. It was an encrypted

ocuments, bank transfers, offshore account numbers. Clemont had been systematically embezzling from th

th. Millions. He was trying to bleed the c

of retreat, of quietly disappearing, vanished. I smashed my fist agains

d fight. I would burn t

tiple backups. I saved them to a thumb drive, and then, for good measure, I emailed encrypt

dding dress. Not the one I was supposed to wear today, but the one my mother had designed for me b

bered my mother's words, her voice weak but her eyes fierce. "Be str

h me. I was a survivor. And

ont

hattered into a dozen pieces. I'd been calling Annemarie all night, my m

t mine. "Don't worry about her, darling," she cooed. "She's probably ju

ease. I turned and kissed her, the image of Annemarie's f

ight wind whipping at my shirt. For the first time in a long time,

mari

r magic. I was a blank canvas, my face betraying none of the turmoil within. When she

doorbell rang. A courier delivered a small, unmarke

e of a snarling wolf's head. Its eyes were tiny, glittering rubies. Benea

ckm

se of reassurance. I wasn't entirely alone in this figh

eet below announced the arrival of

h a cold resolve. I picked up my beautiful, tragic

limo, watching the city streets blur past my w

e game