A massive swelling marked her forehead. Split lip, bloody nose, swollen cheek. Her right wrist was bent at a wrong angle, knuckles scraped raw. She had fought back, but in a pack this size, she never stood a chance.
Eyes watched from nearby cabins. Some pack members had emerged.
They beat her for sport. She would heal, but the pain would have been excruciating. Was this what Eden and Melody endured?
My growing rage at the bruises marring her soft skin surprised even me.
I approached carefully, ears tuned for traps. She lay crumpled outside in a shredded pink t-shirt and shorts. She didn’t move when I drew near.
They had shifted and shredded her with claws while I was gone. Was there anything this pack
“No need to pick her up,” a male voice called. A group of men with beer bottles sm
