Angela Rivers stumbled back, her heel catching on the blood-stained altar as Maren's form lunged, a blur of fur, claws, and glowing silver eyes. The air in the Sanctuary crackled, the symbols on the stone circle flaring green, casting an unearthly glow across the clearing. The ground trembled beneath her, the low growl in her bones now a deafening roar, as if the forest itself was tearing open to reveal the spirit realm Marcus had warned her about.
Angela's heart slammed against her ribs, her fingers clutching the pocketknife and Carla's journal, pathetic defenses against a werewolf, but it was all she had. Grief and fear warred within her, but the thought of Bella kept her from collapsing. She wouldn't fail her niece, ever again.
