Serena
"Fresh blood," a raspy voice growled from the trees.
Another snarled, "She smells like pack. Soft. Weak."
"Let’s tear her apart," a third rogue whispered, his voice a sickening hiss.
My heart pounded so loudly I thought they could hear it. I backed up slowly, the cold soil biting into my bare feet. My hands were still cuffed behind me, wrists burning from the metal. I couldn’t shift. I couldn’t even raise my claws.
I was going to die here.
A low growl echoed behind me. I spun around—too late.
A large rogue with matted gray fur lunged.
I dodged, barely, and tumbled into the dirt. Pain shot up my leg where sharp branches scratched my skin. I scrambled up, gasping, and ran.
Ran like hell.
The woods were alive with howls now—wild, hungry, terrifying. Branches whipped my face.
