Damien watched as her feet sank, fighting against the shifting sand, each step a struggle as she ran. Then a sharp grunt of pain cut through the night—his sister. The wolf had slipped from her grasp, claws raking a deep gouge across her side as it broke free.
The wolf snarled, saliva flying, claws carving trenches in the sand as it charged—an avalanche of teeth and muscle—toward the fleeing female, jaws open and drooling for the kill. In a split second, Damien closed the distance, sending it flying back with a single, brutal kick. For a moment, he wondered why the Lycans targeted them; they never attacked without purpose. If they wanted a blood sacrifice, they would have done it differently. But Damien realized the truth—they were going after his mate. The thought of anyone threatening wh
