Twelve or thirteen years earlier, outskirts of Las Vegas
Raging, high blue flames were visible behind the ramshackle brown barn set half a mile off the road. Luks had pulled off the highway outside of Las Vegas, feeling the urge for a dash across the desert on this night following the full moon. A wise wolf never disregarded the call of the moon. But the run would have to wait. He smelled danger.
He raced across the barren dirt yard and through the garbage piled behind the barn scattered with old car parts, tires and scrap iron.
A woman screamed, and his heart clenched. Had she been trapped by the flames?
Arriving before the blaze behind the barn, he surprised a tall man in blue jeans and no shirt, bleeding from the forehead and wielding nothing more than his hand in a direct gesture t
