Cassandra~
The stench of rust and rain-soaked pavement clung to my lungs with every ragged breath. Slumped against the car door, I let the shadows swallow me, their jagged edges drawn by the flickering light of the streetlamp. The alley was narrow, boxed in by towering apartment buildings that felt as suffocating as the anger burning in my chest. It wasn't the most dignified place to nurse my wounds, but here I was—bruised, breathless, and seething.
I glared at the werewolf who had dragged me out here, standing a few feet away, his arms crossed over his broad chest like he actually believed he had me where he wanted. Griffin Blackthorn he called himself. Arrogant, handsome, and about as smart as a broken doorknob.
