By the time Victor was carried into the Ash Pine Packhouse, he couldn't even maintain his human form.
A massive, pitch-black wolf lay panting on the marble floor of the assembly hall. A silver bullet was lodged deep beneath his shoulder blade. The surrounding flesh was necrotic black, and the glowing, toxic veins of silver poison were already crawling toward his heart.
Every healer in the pack surrounded him, but none dared to touch the wound.
When silver poison reached a werewolf’s heart, the inner wolf died first. Once the wolf was gone, the human host wouldn't last the hour.
The moment I pushed open the heavy oak doors, the hall fell dead silent.
This was the exact room I had been dragged out of three months ago.
The ceremonial altar had been scrubbed clean. The rugs were brand ne
