The forest floor still steamed with the heat of fresh kills. The last of Kieran’s summoned horrors twitched once, twice, then lay still, its skull split wide by Zack’s axe.
The King of the Bloodmoon Pack didn’t even get the chance to pull in a full breath.
A low, wet growl rolled through the trees. Not one voice—hundreds.
From the mist, shapes emerged.
Not wolves.
Not vampires.
Something older.
They crawled low to the ground, four-legged but wrong in proportion—longer forelimbs ending in talons, heads crowned in jagged bone, eyes leaking pale green fire. Their skin was stretched thin over muscle like burned parchment, slick with black ichor. Each one carried the scent of grave dust and lightning.
Lilly’s POV
The first one came at me so fast my wolf surged without thought. My claws
