Wanted By The Alpha And His Brothers
Staecy your gaze hits the side of my faceit took me by surprise the hatred in his eyeshe sneaks glances at mehis eyes dilate when he looks at me
And ten yards away, near the shattered glass of a garden door, was Jessica.
She was on her knees, her riding jacket torn, her face ashen. A third Night Fang wolf, larger than the others, had her by the arm, its jaws clamped on the fabric, dragging her toward the broken exit. And standing over her, in human form, was a man I'd only seen in wanted sketches and the blurred photos from long-range surveillance.
Peter Holloway.
Alpha of the Night Fang Pack.
He looked older than I expected, his face a roadmap of scars and bitterness, but his eyes were the same icy, hateful blue from the pictures taken at my parents' funeral. He held a wicked-looking curved blade casually at his side.
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