The western ridge smells like death even before we reach it.
My wolf surges forward the second the wind carries it, claws ripping through my fingertips as a partial shift tears across my body.
Sienna runs beside me, holding a sword tightly. You can see the dark lines on her skin because she is a vampire. She is moving quickly, like a wolf. Her eyes keep changing color: from brown to gold to black. Every few steps, her breathing gets faster and harder.
“Stay behind me,” I growl, my voice already distorted by the shift.
“Like hell,” she snaps back. Her voice carries a strange double tone now. “They came for me. I’m not hiding.”
Before I can argue, the treeline explodes.
Black-clad operatives rush out of the forest in a tight formation. They are all equipped with respirators, silver-net
