Claire's POV
Six bullets. I counted them again, just to be sure. Six f*****g bullets between me and a pack of pissed-off werewolves. Not exactly great odds.
I crouched lower behind the fallen log, my eyes fixed on the Eastern Howl Stone. It wasn't as big as the western one—more like a jagged tooth sticking out of the earth than a monument—but it hummed with something I could feel in my chest. A vibration. A presence.
My arm throbbed where the silver bullet had grazed me. Not deep enough to do serious damage, but enough to leave a trail of blood drops any wolf could follow.
"Real smart, Claire," I muttered to myself. "Get involved with werewolf politics. What could possibly go wrong?"
Kira's father's watch felt heavy on my wrist. The hidden compartment inside contained our only chance of exposin……
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