Anastacia’s Perspective:
"Rogue!" I barked, my voice filled with a mix of anger and fear, my nails-stained crimson. "The blood on my nails angers me, fuels me. Who dared send you to my pack? Why are you here?"
I move closer, my voice low and filled with a sinister edge. "Let me take my nails and slide them slowly across your skin," I whisper, relishing the fear that dances in your eyes. "My nails are better than the sharpest razors that can slice painful cuts," I taunt, my tone dripping with malice.
The rogue glanced up, one eye sealed shut from bruising, blood oozing down his face from Anastacia's fierce cuts. He spat out the blood dribbling into his mouth, his gaze unwavering.
The rogue screeched, his voice dripping with malice. "There's a witch out there who despises you. She's the
