Broken Blood

I thought watching my Werewolf boyfriend get arrested for murder was the worst experience of my life. But then I was knocked out and dragged off to a cell of my own by the very people who were supposed to protect me from danger.

I thought being held prisoner in solitary confinement for weeks on end was the worst experience of my life. But then a visitor came, and I realized I'd been wrong all along. There are worse things than torture and death. Much worse.

He wants my blood. More than that, he wants to get into my head. To use my bond to control his army, to wipe the world clean of anything with dirty blood. I can't let that happen, but if I don't he'll kill every single person I've ever cared about—beginning with my Werewolf pack.

The prophecy said I would have to make an impossible choice, but I must be doing this wrong—so far every choice I've made has only led to more pain and danger and death. Hunters are pitted against Werewolves and I'm alone in my war against Gordon Steppe. I can't fight him off anymore; all I can do is try to keep him out of the important places. And I'm failing at even that.

I thought the demons were out there, clearly marked and clinging to the shadows. 

But they're not. The monsters are within the ranks of those sworn to protect. The enemy is among us.