Black Claw: Bound by Fate
The Old Alpha’s camp was set on a hilltop and ringed by bone-white stones and ritual fires, like a vision out of old country nightmares.
As they approached, Elena moved forward, her wolves flanking tight. Not to protect, she realized, but to frame her—the Luna as prize and weapon both. Well and good. She wore her scars and her thorns because she wanted the world to see them. She’d always despised hiding.
They stopped at the perimeter stones. At a signal, Devin loosed a low, ground-trembling howl, and the flames on the hilltop shivered in response.
The Old Alpha appeared, regal and skeletal, her face a mask of beauty ruined by too many winters. “So here is the famous Luna,” she called across
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