In the silvery waterfall of moonlight, Jonathan Aztec, my second in command, holding rank as Beta of the Northridge pack, was something to behold. His powerful shoulders seemed to carry the waning gibbous, and the shadows that devoured the vast grounds of Battleridge manor granted him a wide berth.
He was a superior specimen. He was a male worthy of the ranking he'd been bestowed. But like all creatures, he wasn't born perfect, and his character flaw was a fault that bled out into the night like a severed artery: Concern.
It charged the air between us, a thick blanket that settled against the lungs like a boa-constrictor's loving embrace.
"What did you find?" I asked. The perverse silence that had entombed the dilapidated courtyard, screaming so loud it rang through my ears like a twisted lullaby, was shattered upon his approach. His boots smacked against the waterlogged ground, echoing in a way that spoke of his failures before he'd even opened his mouth. 
"Nothing,"
.......
"Until I can figure out what's going on, nobody finds out about the boy. Understand?"
"Understood."
"You're not going to ..." The pause that followed dragged out. "He's just a baby, Sterling."
"You're dismissed."

The Littlest Light

War came in many forms, and death, the final horseman, always rode in his wake.

Perhaps it had been somewhat ignorant of me to assume that there would have been no casualties just because the battle had commenced inside my head. Dead thoughts scattered my brain, their poison seeping into my consciousness the way the blood of the fallen soaked into the soil of the battlefield. It felt . . . words failed me. Feelings were hardly my strong point.

Yet, they owned me. They came in waves, screaming battle cries that came out so soft, little more than a whisper, but was enough to have the opposition, logic, running scared.

In this war, heart was winning, and like the bitch that it was, it was making sure that I didn't forget a single one of their victories.

Chapter47