The roof of the packhouse didn't just break; it vanished.
One moment, I was staring at the silver-clad Sentinel. The next, a paw the size of a bedroom crashed through the ceiling, crushing the long dining table where the "High Wolves" had been eating only an hour ago.
Dust and stone rained down. Through the massive hole in the roof, I saw it.
The Great White Wolf.
It was a nightmare made of fur and moonlight. Its eyes weren't eyes—they were two glowing, icy moons that radiated a cold so deep it made my lungs ache. This wasn't a shifter. This was a beast of the heavens. The Goddess’s favorite executioner.
"Silas, move!" I screamed.
Silas didn't hesitate. He grabbed me around the waist and dove behind a thick stone pillar just as the giant wolf let out a howl. But this wasn't a normal
