The Freak Is The Mate Of The Lycan
"She thinks... she thinks he wants her. The broken... the freak. He will never want her. He will hunt her. He promised me! The Hunt! She... she will die at the Hunt! I will wear her skin."
The rest was cut off by a heavy, wooden thud, like her door was yanked open, and her voice faded as she was presumably dragged into the hall.
I slid down the wall, my legs giving out again, and landed hard on the floor.
My blood had turned to ice.
That... that was the real Luna Quinn. Not the grieving, perfect wife. But a raving, murderous, unstable... thing.
She will die at the Hunt.
I will wear her skin.