Scarred Wolf by Charlene Hartnady

Prologue

Jaxon

Blood!

There’s so much blood. It’s everywhere I look. Splattering the grass around me. Soaking into the soil. I look down and my hands are covered in the stuff. I can scent the metallic tang. Can practically taste it on my tongue. I gag.

“Mom!” I shout. My voice is that of a very young boy. I can hear the fear etched into it. I can’t stop looking at the blood. I gag again.

“Momma.” My voice is soft and unsure. Fear unlike anything I’ve ever known has my mouth drying up and my blood rushing through my veins. I want to run and hide. I want to find my teddy bear and crawl into a small, safe place. I want my mommy so badly I whimper. I need to bury my head in her chest. I want this all to go away.

Red!

Red!

Red!

Everywhere I look is dripping red!

Then come the screams. Terrifying and pain-filled. There’s snarling and growling, followed by more snarls. It’s the screams that accompany each vicious, throaty snarl that make me sob even harder. He’s coming for me next. He’s coming for me! I just know it.

I have to be brave. I have to save her. Please be okay, Momma! On weak, little boy legs, I stumble forward, toward the terrifying noises. My lip is trembling so hard I can feel it. My teeth are chattering as well. I cover my face with my hands. I don’t want to see. I don’t! I have to. I have to save Momma. I have to try.

That’s when I see him. He has his back to me. He’s partially shifted. It’s a mix of hair and skin. His ears are long with sharp tips that have tufts of hair growing off them. It’s the dripping red claws that draw my attention. They’re razor sharp. He snarls, slashing claws with another harsh snarl. Slashing, ripping, breaking. My mother is on the ground. She’s…she’s—

I scream.

The man turns around.

It’s him!

No!

It can’t be!

I sob even harder as his face is contorted with rage. Slightly more man than wolf. Somehow more terrifying because of it. His teeth are long and gleaming; they, too, are red-tinged. Blood drips down his chin…down his neck…down…down in never-ending rivulets.

I scream again. Or maybe I never stopped in the first place. His lip curls away from those razor-sharp teeth in a silent snarl. He rakes a claw across my chest in a vicious swipe that sends me flying backward.

I wake up. A scream trying to claw its way out of my throat. The sheets are tangled around my body; they’re soaked with my sweat. My hand is on the scars across my chest. The nightmare is always the same, although, I haven’t had these shitty dreams in a long time. Why now? I pull in a couple of deep breaths, trying to get my heart rate under control.

I know why. I can feel it. We all can. The power crackles in the air. It’s time.

Fuck!

I scrub a hand over my face, trying to rid myself of the images. It was only a nightmare, I tell myself. But that isn’t exactly true. It’s all jumbled up. If only I could remember what actually fucking happened, it would be great. Maybe I could get over it. Who am I kidding? I’ll never get over the murder of my mother. Not fucking happening. My biggest wish is for these nightmares to go away. At the very least, I wish it wasn’t my father’s face I saw on the wolf who killed my mom. The shifter who hurt me. It wasn’t my dad who did any of it. It was them. I don’t know what the actual murderer looks like. My crazy brain keeps muddling the details; too much time has passed. It pisses me off more than anything. One thing is for sure, I won’t rest until the last Moone is taken down.

I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Momma.