American War A Novel Novels & Stories

The pointed finger in the dark haunted Tess’s sleep, transforming her dreams into shadowy chases through endless, dripping forests. She woke not to sunlight, but to the grim, pearl-gray dawn of a Pacific Northwest morning that felt like a held breath. The memory was a cold stone in her stomach. The war wasn't an abstract concept of pack borders; it was a man in the street, marking her as the target.

I cried out in pain, in a desperate attempt to save my life. “You should have thought twice before plotting against Fenrir and me,” Damien growled and pushed me to the wall. I collided against the wall, my face covered in blood, could barely see anything. I wiped my face with my hand, and finally, I saw a sword on his bed. Rushing to his bed, I picked up the sword and charged at him, driving the sword through his stomach. I pulled the sword out, and Damien’s lifeless body fell to the ground. I stood there, my bloody hands trembling. “I just killed an alpha.”