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.
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?
My father, by accident. Every hour I sat quiet in Marcus Hale's office as a kid, filing papers, fetching listening to him negotiate with monsters. He thought he was babysitting me.
He was training his own replacement.