The White-Moon children have been fighting for their lives for as long as they could remember. Their parents past haunts them as they struggle to find who they are.
As they find their mates, a prophecy takes a turn for the worse.
Will Kendan become...
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When I woke up I couldn't move. I was confined, trapped inside of a wooden box the harsh edges splintering off and lodging themselves into my skin.
I had never liked small spaces, not since Kendan shoved me into the back of a closet while our mother fought for us. The dark could be a scary thing. Playing tricks on the mind as I swore I saw yellow eyes peeking through the darkness, waiting for me to shut my eyes.
The other thing about darkness was there was no way to decipher time in the pitch darkness. I was left alone, slowly rotting away as the box was soiled with urine and blood. I couldn't feel my beast, but the increasing weakness I felt growing in my body had me knowing enough that she was still there. Hidden in the depths of my mind as she took from my already depleted strength to keep her soul, my soul, running.
Losing a beast is almost as bad as losing a mate.
Had I been able to move my arms that were pinned to the side of the box, which was causing incessant pain in my shoulder as I could feel the broken bones scrape against each other in a way that had me keeping as still as possible, I would have been able to poke and pry at the still open wounds. Even with my diminished sense of smell, I could still scent the infection that surrounded me. The sick smell had me wanting to gag as I struggled to keep my eyes open.
I didn't need my hands to feel the blood dripping from my skin, soaking into the box.
I approximated it to be a day before they came back again. I had passed the time with counting, marking every hour with a curl of my finger, all I could do in the box after I had rubbed the wolfsbane off every bloody finger. Pushing the sensitive nerve endings into the wood as I fought pain with pain.
I had got to 10 hours.
600 minutes.
36000 seconds.
I had just passed 36,862 seconds when the lid was opened. The light blinding me as I lost my place in counting. I blinked heavily at the man above me, the man I would think about until I died.
"Come to finish me off?" The provoking words left my mouth before I could stop them as he smiled.
"Not yet little wolf," As much as I didn't want them to, his words brought me comfort. I had always prided myself among my siblings. Telling them how I would never give up on them finding me, but the fact was that I am. I am giving up on them finding me.
After 24 hours, the chance of the victim having survived is decreasing with each passing second. I was well beyond that point.
I had to come to the painful reality of how long it would take until I was just a memory. Would they have already accepted my death before finding me? No one in the packs certain of my status with the living because I wasn't connected to any of them. I was in limbo right now.
