THE GIRL WITH THE WOLF MARK

framed in the doorway, her thin lips pressed into a tight line of determination. In her arms, she clutche

unmistakable note of triumph as she thrust the white

was finer than anything she'd ever been allowed to wear-pure white linen embroidered with silver thread along th

ed eyes meeting her stepmother's. There was no tremor in her voice

was simply... convenient. Maxwell was chosen in the initial lottery, but your father petitio

e silver embroidery. Little moons, she realized,

ng. The werewolves won't care they only want warm flesh. But the town has traditions and appearances to maintai

ly at the threshold. "You have one hour. Make yourself presentable." A cruel smile flickered a

escape had ever crossed her mind. Where would she go? The town was surroun

the blue glow. For seventeen years, she had been an unwanted burden, a reminder of her mot

ress, surrendering herself to whatever