It had been raining heavily that autumn night, two years ago, when Marian had not returned on time to the pack grounds.
She had returned at well past 2 a.m., sneaking in through the tree line instead of using the open path from the outer pack grounds into the pack compound.
Her 1 a.m. curfew had passed, and she didn’t care to be interrogated by any guards.
She stepped into the compound to find her father hanging from two trees at the edge of the compound.
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Large fires burning at the edge of the compound had caught her eye.
Her heart had skipped, and instantly, a whip cracked.
Her father’s voice reached her ears.
Marian ran to the site.
Dax had been waiting for her.
He had set things up in such a way that she could not miss it – fire, in the rain, that high, no one co
