Werewolf short stories
Ezra stepped forward, positioning himself in front of me.
“He’s not alone,” Dante muttered, his voice grim.
I could feel the tension ripple through the pack as they all turned their attention to the trees. Shadows flickered, and suddenly, from the forest’s edge, Cole emerged, flanked by a dozen of his most loyal wolves. They marched forward, their eyes gleaming with malice, their movements predatory.
“Crystal!” Cole’s voice boomed, dripping with venom. He stepped forward, his eyes locked on mine. “You don’t belong here. You never did. You think you can just waltz in, claim power, and expect me to bow?”
Bab Populer