By the time Becky slipped back into the Mistwood pack territory that night, satisfaction coursed through her veins like poison. Two crucial pieces of her deadly game were now in motion. Zachery would draw his final breath within days, taking her darkest secret to the grave with him. Chris remained blissfully unaware, still trusting the woman who had just signed his uncle's death warrant.
The witch's black market had proven profitable. The scent-masking potion now flowed through her system, and the rune explosives burned cold in her pocket. Tomorrow would bring the anchor's preparation, but tonight belonged to planting the seeds of destruction.
Her lips curved into a predatory smile. After years of careful planning, the noose was finally tightening around their throats. Every piece was sliding into place exactly as she had orchestrated.
