Publisher's Synopsis
The world ends on a TuesdayThe last good thing I remember is the smell of rosemary. Then the growl came.Not the playful rumble of a packmate shifting. This was guttural and deadly, like the earth itself was snarling.Before I could process what was happening, the rogue wolf tore through the tree line, its mangy fur matted with mud and old blood. Dad moved faster than I'd ever seen him, his body slamming into the beast before its claws could rip into me. "Run, Shia!" he roared, but my legs refused to work.Mom shifted mid-leap, her sleek black wolf crashing into a second attacker. For a heartbeat, I thought we'd survive. Then he appeared-the gray wolf.He was massive, his muzzle scarred, eyes burning like twin coals. His jaws closed around Mom's throat with a sickening crunch. Her whimper died in the dirt, drowned by Dad's enraged howl. I watched, frozen, as three more rogures dragged him down, their teeth sinking into the man who'd taught me to fight, to laugh, to live.When the pack arrives, they find me kneeling in their pool of blood, my hands slick with it, my nightgown clinging to my skin like a second corpse. They don't ask questions. They don't help. They just stare with hate in their eyes. "Murderer," someone spits.And that is the beginning of my nightmare. Falsely accused of a crime I never committed.I feel dejected and alone. You never know what it feels like to be bullied and battered until it happens to you. And the Alpha heir Rodriguez Blackthorne. Legendary heartbreaker. He has such a body that makes your panties drip. And according to pack gossip, he's "so Pretty it hurts" and "slept his way through every she-wolf in three territories." I think that's why the Alpha and Luna hasn't allowed him to be here very much. The pack hardly knows him but sings his name.I hope he chokes on his ego.Now he will be back, and the pack preens like he's their savior. Let them. They've already taken my parents, my wolf, my dignity.But when Rodriguez corners me in the attic an hour after his return, his hand rough around my wrist and his breath hot on my ear, I realize I'm wrong.You're not a killer," he growls, lips brushing the scar Green gave me. "You're a storm."And storms?They destroy.Uh... I don't think I will even recognize him if we meet on unofficial grounds. My hope that he will be the only kind person I know, is already making me conjure scenes of his kindness in my head.Because none of the things I have been through broke me. Not the killing of my parents, not the beatings, nor the isolation. What comes next is what broke me...
