THE WEREWOLF AND VAMPIRE'S MATE
Wolves, giant ones, leap into the chaos, claws gleaming like daggers.
And in the middle of it all, my mother was holding a baby. Me.
“No matter what happens,” she tells a woman in a maid’s uniform, her eyes wet and fierce, “you take her and run. Don’t let them find her. She’s the key.”
The woman sobs. “But what about-”
“I said run!”
Flash.
I scream. Out loud this time.
My knees give way and I fall to the ground, gravel digging into my skin, but I barely feel it.
Bab Populer