Wolves Of Berlin The Cursed Hybrid
I admired that, her skills, still do.
Blood spatters cover the exquisite wallpapers Amands had chosen so carefully, now ruined, dark and wet, and there’s Linda, sprawled on the floor, unconscious, torn up like a rag doll in dark brown wolf form.
“Son of a bitch!” I snarl, kicking a busted chair out of the way. “Marc, Jake, Paul, Velan, you’re all dead!”
“Linda, stay with me!” I drop to my knees, checking her pulse it was weak, but still there. I feel a temporarily relief that she is still with us as I was not too late, hard to live with that if I had failed.
Bab Populer