The next morning dawns with somber silence and a pile of bodies in front of the main lodge.
Alpha's is on top for everyone to see, but it's the sheer number that makes me want to vomit every time I look out the window. I was right when I thought the Lycan King was a serial killer. He instigated a riot and caused the death of… how many? Twenty? Thirty?
He's a madman.
And I still don't understand why he did it.
Alpha's dead. So is Beta. I don't know where Rafe is, but I did see Andrew this morning, limping as he helped gather the bodies.
The door creaks. I whirl around, heart in my throat, expecting the mass murderer in question to be standing there.
A red-haired Lycan stands in the doorway, the same one who smirked at my predicament last night. His posture is formal, almost stiff. "Caine thought these might fit you." He extends a stack of fabric.
