CHAPTER 8-CARROT CAKE

Ethel

“Dad!” I yelled as the guards circled him. My mum was holding onto my hand as I tried to pry off to go get him.

Father faced me, his copper red hair perched to his face. His eyes were terror-filled. “Go, Ethel. Take her away, Lori. Save our child.”

“No— Thatcher.” My mum broke out in tears as she pulled me away. My father raised his pitchfork, what was left of him as a gardener in Alpha Rufus’ pack, as he tried to defend himself. It didn’t do much good against the claws of the five heft