After her fated mate rejects her and her pack erases every trace of her existence, a werewolf is left with nothing but the memory of their betrayal. She returns determined to make those who cast her out answer for what they did.
because I wasn't there. Back at the boathouse, I opened my laptop and typed the name wolves in our world only ever whispered. The Raven Guard. Every pack on this continent bows to one the thorns, the lichen crown, and the crown keeps something that isn't an army. 50 applicants a year, taken at 18. I sat up 11 straight nights doing their assessments. Logic, memory, pack law. Then
I hit submit and waited to be rejected. Again. 11 days later, a black envelope with a silver crown. Applicant W. Hale, accepted. Report on your 18th birthday. Tell no one.
I laughed out loud in an empty boathouse. Who exactly did they think I had left? Voice came four nights before I left. 11.03 p.m., singing.
A woman's voice, low and warm. I sat up in the dark with my heart trying to climb out of my throat. Happy birthday, Rin. You're a week early.
You were born a week late. Your mother told the registry to write the day she'd already sent the announcements for 18 years of the wrong birthday. Who are you?
Nyx. I'm your wolf.