We got to the border between Pine Ridge and Shannon’s Ridge with twenty minutes to spare on Sora’s timetable. Griffin was still holding strong, and I could tell by the worry lines that had taken up residence around the corner of his mouth that the constant onslaught had subsided.
The killer had taken the bait.
I said a quick and silent prayer that wherever Maddy was, she was well, and then turned my attention to what we’d come here to do.
What I was going to have to do.
Werewolves were difficult to kill. Purebreds, like Macbeth and Othello, could survive anything short of decapitation, having their hearts ripped out, or being literally torn to pieces. I wasn’t sure whether Sora’s mother had been a werewolf or not, but even if she hadn’t been, killing Sora wouldn’t just be a matter of p
