Betrayed by Blood
Matt sat hunched over in the dimly lit inn room, his fingers trembling around the glass of cheap whiskey. The liquid barely burned going down, but it did nothing to settle the unease twisting inside him. His eyes were hollow, dark circles sunken into his skin, his once-pristine clothes now wrinkled and stained.
Three days.
Three days of running. Of hiding. Of waiting for it all to pass.
He had heard what happened. It was all the townspeople could talk about. Cain took everyone in the Silver Moon pack as slaves. He ransacked the pack and tore it apart. His mother, his sisters, his people. They were all under Cain. They were all suffering for his mistakes.
He hadn't slept more than a few hours, and even then, it was restless—filled with nightmares of blood, snarling teeth, and those piercing green eyes staring right into his soul. Every noise outside sent his heart lurching. Every creak of the wooden floorboards had him gripping the knife he kept by his side.
