Rylee
Sometimes I want to applaud fate. Even on my birthday, it mocks me with its cruel sense of humor.
Falsely accused, imprisoned, and then caught so easily after escaping. The man who caught me was so swift and powerful. I was tackled to the ground before I even had a chance to react.
Fugitives go straight to death row. It's an eternal rule in the werewolf world. Blindfolded and shoved into the backseat of a car, I wait for my fate.
Sometime later, the car door creaks open, and a man sits next to me. The space instantly feels cramped. Even though I’m blindfolded, his presence is enormous—definitely not one of Greenvale’s 67 werewolves.
The man doesn’t speak. I can feel his intense gaze piercing through me. His heat is overwhelming, making me shiver. My teeth are chattering, but a small hope flickers: If he’s not from Greenvale, not killing me right away, could he possibly let me go?
I clear my throat. “Sir…” As soon as I speak, he leans in, his body heat almost burning me. His hand
