Marianna,
I sat on the couch, my arms bleeding from the bites. I looked around the room, which was covered in blood and filled with the foul smell of the Rogues, thick and suffocating as if it had soaked into the walls themselves.
But I didn't feel anything.
I was seven when Dad took me to the warzone between Rogues and wolves. He gave me a dagger and told me to stab one of the captives.
A test as the future Alpha. On that day I cried a bit, but when I stabbed into soft flesh, I realized I didn't hate it.
Now, sitting in this room full of blood, with empty eyes, that same nostalgic sensation returned, sharp and familiar, like something my body remembered before my mind could stop it. I loved blood.
I didn't know how long I had been sitting there with my arm still bleeding when Dawn s
