Chapter 51

DEA

I had never witnessed murder before. Not with my eyes at least. I went from a wide-eyed, wet-behind-the-ears scientist to this—whatever this was. Jason's death was something that haunted my dreams. In the darkest hours when the shadows grew thicker and the cold was icier, the ominous sound of his neck snapping under pressure weaseled its way into my dreams. Daylight hours were easier to ignore the relentless echo of it which gnawed at my sanity like a dog with a bone.

This. This was different.

This wasn't murder. This was a massacre and all I could do was sit back and watch as if this was some morbid scene out of Twilight. Except, the vampires didn't shimmer here and the wolves were far more feral.

This wouldn't worm its way into my dreams. This would become a night terror, stuck on repeat each time my eyes fluttered shut. I'd never crave the warm embrace of sleep ever again. Because, now, it felt more like claws peeling layers of my skin back instead of the reprieve it was mea