SADIE
Blood pools around the five-year-old's body like spilled paint. Her princess t-shirt—pink with glittery unicorns—is shredded where claws opened her from sternum to hip. She's still breathing, tiny chest hitching in rhythm that says she has minutes, maybe less.
"Move." I drop to my knees beside her, ignoring how gore soaks through my jeans. Two weeks ago, I didn't even know I was a wolf. Now I'm trying to channel power I barely understand while a child dies in front of news cameras.
"Sadie, you're not ready—" My mother reaches for me but I'm already pressing palms to the girl's wounds.
The power comes wrong. Where my mother channels healing like water through cupped hands, mine erupts like a broken dam. White light bleeds from my skin, pouring into the child's body with all the f
