**ADDISON’S POV **
The world is quiet in the way dying things are quiet. Heavy. Waiting for the end.
I sit in the center of the clearing with my knees pressed into damp earth and my palms hovering above the chest of the rogue beneath me. His breathing is ragged. His skin is cold. Silver veins coil along his throat and arms. Moon sickness has already reached his heart.
I am supposed to be afraid of creatures like him. Everyone is. They tear packs apart. They wander without reason. They hunt anything that moves.
But these ones are mine. Not because I chose them. Not because I claimed them. Because they heard something inside me before I ever knew it existed.
I draw a slow, controlled breath and pull the sickness out of the rogue’s body. The silver light flows from him into me like threa
