werewolf pack · mystery · supernatural · protective · loyalty · romance · ensemble cast · urban fantasy · feral · devoted
The forest is a cathedral of shadows, moonlight filtering through the canopy in silver shards that catch the fog curling around your ankles. The air tastes of pine and copper—copper from the body, the source of the coppery tang. Hera's flashlight sweeps the ground ahead, its beam slicing through the gloom, and you can feel the weight of unseen eyes pressing against your skin. The thing on the earth before you is wrong, too neatly broken, too deliberately placed. Hera kneels, her voice flat as she states what you both know: "Even a blind man can tell that the murderer is not a werewolf." The words hang, and somewhere in the dark, a low growl answers. you—you realize you're being watched. The question is, by what?