Michaela
Any illusions of peace I’d felt were shattered. The wild, gamy smell of werewolves in the air was far more real, I finally understood, than any thoughts I’d had of being a cosy family with Gavin. I was what I was – a wolf, a warrior, a monster, and a mother – and I couldn’t live a lie, not even with such a loyal friend.
Most of all, I couldn’t let the safe house with my friend inside – and my son, I thought with a thrill of terror, picturing him dancing innocently by his window – be discovered. I had to act, and act now.
Crouching low in the undergrowth, I took several deep gulps of air, scenting. Three werewolves – no, four – in the search party that hunted for me. Ordinary werewolves, not alphas, not Lycans.
I grinned in the shadows. That meant I was stronger than them
