Just like me. Just like half of the men in the Forest. Just like Brooke.
But Crichton. He was a man who reveled in power, who loved it, who loved to use it like a weapon. Sam hadn’t known many Shifters over the years, jumping from home to home, but he had known plenty of people, and he’d met plenty like Crichton. Sam had hoped to get away from men like that.
I should have known they would be everywhere.
The alarm was still blaring and the men were getting up at a blinding fast pace. Sam glanced at the clock; it was barely 7 in the morning. Weak light shone through one of the windows high on the wall and it promised another cold, dreary, overcast day.
There were no more set squads. No more teams of men who worked perfectly under pressure. All of the men worked well, together, o
