Battle Of Blackwater Novels & Stories

The nerves I thought I had under control stir again, fluttering under my ribs. Drake sits beside me, his broad shoulders tense, gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. He doesn’t speak right away. Instead, he takes a long sip of his coffee, as if trying to decide where to begin. I wait, watching the wind stir the branches above us. Finally, his voice breaks the quiet. Low. Measured. “There have been attacks. On werewolf packs. Blackwater hasn't been attacked but there have been a few close to home.” I stiffen, already knowing this isn’t a normal kind of violence.