Aiden’ POVThe hallway is dark and cold. I run. Footsteps chase me. Their laughter echoes, sharp and cruel.“Where do you think you’re going, Ebonis boy?” one shouted.That word burns. Ebonis.Different. Unwanted. A reminder that I don't belong.Damn, I hate how they make that word sound.My werewolf tribe is born with black skin and natural white hair, which bears a striking resemblance to outcasts in ancient times, blessed by the moon goddess yet despised by people. At Boston Pack, we were a reminder of the tribe that once lived underground in caves, valleys and the suburbs. They called us outcasts, ill-breeds, and shadows. They didn’t know how right they were.That word. Ebonis.It always comes with a sneer, a curse disguised as curiosity. To them, it means freak, half-breed, shadow.To me, it means history.Once, long before light skinned wolves filled the cities with glass and noise, the Ebonis ruled the mountains under the moon. Dark skinned Wolf-blooded descendants of the Moo
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