After her fated mate rejects her, a werewolf is stripped of her place and memory by the pack that once claimed her. She returns transformed into something far more dangerous, determined to make every one of them answer for what they did.
W. Hale is a woman. Behind me, three trucks of new recruits went dead silent. Enjoy this. Nick's heard.
You'll be hearing that sentence for the rest of your life. The Ravengard campus is 160 acres of stone and glass, owned by the Thorn Crown. Fifty of us in the intake year. By the end of the trial fortnight, there will be 35.
Director Halloway met me on the front steps, holding my file like a man handed a live grenade with a bow on it. Miss Hale, you'll be skipping the trial fortnight. Fifty heads turned. Sir?
Your assessment scores are the highest recorded in this organization's history. Not this year. Ever. You'll spend two weeks with Instructor Bram instead. Forty-nine people looked at me like I'd killed something they loved.
Instructor Bram is sixty, built like a retaining wall. And in fourteen days, he never once told me I did well. He tested my recall. He tested PAC law. Three centuries of treaties, arbitration precedent, blood debt statutes.
On day nine, he stopped mid-question, stared at me, and said, Who taught you this?