Ensley opened his eyes as a sharp, stabbing agony flared through his abdomen. The silver dagger that had bitten into his flesh left him utterly drained, his wolf's innate strength suppressed and fading.
He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing them open again to clear his blurred vision as a low groan escaped his lips. His throat was parched, burning for even a drop of water.
"Where am I...?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.
Squinting through the dim light, he tried to make sense of his surroundings. He lay in a decaying, abandoned room, thick with dust and draped in heavy spiderwebs.
"Agh!" Ensley gasped, another wave of excruciating pain shooting from his raw wound straight up through his chest as the memories of the night before came rushing back.
He had been running freely through the forest. Then he saw Morticia, and before he could even process her presence, she had driven a blade into his side without a word.
