PROLOGUE

In the quiet of the night, the bellow of an anguished shifter broke the stillness, filling the dark woods with terror. Its roar shook the very foundation of the little cabin where the couple had camped out. Even though it came from a distance, it still had a terrifying impact on them.

Sinclair and Rebecca exchanged glances, fear lingering in their eyes. A tingle ran down the length of Rebecca’s spine after the roar died. She recognized it.

“Oh, God. It’s T-Murek.” Her face paled. “He’s here.” She uttered a breathless gasp and whirled to face him with frightened eyes. “Phineus is still out there.”

She quickly handed the baby in her arms to her husband, who stood paralyzed with fear and reached for the door.

“No, Rebecca!”

She tried to unlatch it, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. 

“I have to save him!” she bawled, struggling to break free. 

“No!” he bellowed. “If you go out there, you’ll die!” 

She persisted, pushing his fingers off her wrist. “But Phineus—he’s out there. If I don’t go now, T-Murek will kill him!”

Putting the baby gently in his crib, he turned to face Rebecca, pressing both hands on her shoulder to steady her and staring into her frightened eyes—as if trying to make her see reason.

“If you go out there—” He gestured towards the wooden brown door. “You will die.” Drops of sweat formed on his forehead and rolled to his side. He clutched her arms in a death grip, never wanted to let go. “We have to go now,” he begged, his voice sounding low. 

Rebecca sobbed, her shoulder slumped and her cheek became wet with tears. “But my son, he will die! He will—” Her words were cut short after Sinclair seized her in a warm embrace.

A loud thud sounded after the door fell. A figure approached and stood at the entrance. The temperature in the room quickly dropped a chilling few degrees at the mere sighting of him. The haughty look on his white face sent a chill down Sinclair’s spine.

Sinclair held out his arm to push his wife behind. Rebecca’s eyes widened at the sight of the bloodstain on his lip. The stain on T-Murek’s grinning lips only reaffirmed her fear. She tried to hold back the tears, but his name forced itself out of her mouth in a loud cry.

“Phineus!”

She charged at him. “You killed him, you sick bastard!”

“Rebecca!”

Sinclair held her back and got her under control. T-Murek pulled out his tongue and licked the blood off his lips. A childish cry whined in his ears. His grin widened after he saw the crib far across the cabin.

 “Quick, Rebecca! Take the boy and get the hell out of here!” Sinclair roared.

“No!” she argued, then broke into a sob. “He’ll kill you!”

“He’d kill us all if you don’t go now with the boy.”

T-Murek removed a small, shiny object from underneath his coat. A pocketknife with a jagged blade. 

“Go now, dammit!” he barked on sighting the blade. 

Without a word, Rebecca—acting on pure adrenaline, took the child from the crib and dashed through the door into the chilly waft of the night, making scared noises as she ran. 

Looking over his shoulder, Sinclair saw that she had already left the room. He turned to snarl at T-Murek. “Leave my family alone. This is between us.” 

Sauntering towards him, T-Murek shot him a venomous glance. “Oh, but we now involved them in this mess you’ve created.” His voice was gravelly and cold. He rubbed the knife against his palm and said, “I’d make sure your wife watches as I disembowel you.”

Rebecca ran along the dark, lone-tarred road that wound through a large hectare of dead, yet tall trees. The breeze hallowed in her ears at every pace. Not a single person was in sight, only towering oaks dancing with the gust. Her hands were shaking terribly as she held the baby close to her bosom, chest heaving rapidly.

Rebecca suddenly stopped in her tracks when Sinclair’s voice sounded off in a distance. It sounded like he was in great pain. She whimpered as she turned to look back at the house. The child in her arms started to cry, and she tried to comfort him.

Even though she was a few yards away, she could still hear Sinclair’s painful screams. His horrifying screaming intensified for several seconds before it finally stopped. Gasping, she moved her hand to cover her mouth, her legs trembling. 

He killed him.

Her heart clenched painfully.

T-Murek killed him.

Rebecca whimpered with the child crying in her arms. She shook him gently to keep him quiet. It worked; the child quieted down and soon drifted to sleep. Her gaze returned back on the road. She’d lost the will to keep running. Her legs were just too weak to carry her any further. She walked off the road, towards an oak at the side and gently placed the child at the foot of the tree. Her legs buckled as she slid against the tree, then she sat on the ground to cry.

“I’m so sorry,” she whined, glancing down at her sleeping son, her voice filled with defeat. 

She covered him with a blanket and gathered dead branches around him to conceal him from sight. Getting up to her feet, she wiped the tears with her arm, then returned to the road and started running—not away from the house, but towards it. Her feet hurt badly from the rough asphalt.

“I swear, I won’t let him get you,” she muttered under her breath. “Not while I still breathe.”

Rebecca was startled when she heard a twig snapping behind her. She quickly turned and found a grey squirrel digging ferociously in the leaf-strewn ground. She immediately felt relieved, breathing heavily.

She licked her dry lips, ignoring her thirst and the beginnings of a headache. The pain and sadness left her as she continued along the asphalt. Nothing else mattered at that moment, not even her life. She was willing to die so her son could live. Returning to the cabin in vain hope of saving her husband could just be the most heroic deed she’d ever attempted—or maybe the worst decision she’d ever made.

Just a few meters away from the house, the sound of rustling branches echoed behind her. Turning to her right, she gasped when she saw Sinclair hanging from T-Murek’s hands. He was barely alive, having multiple bruises across his face. T-Murek had beaten him to an unrecognisable pulp.

“I couldn’t let him die just yet,” T-Murek mumbled coldly, eyes fixed on her. “—at least not without letting you watch.”

 Sinclair was bleeding profusely on the head and on his lips. His nose were broken. He hung from T-Murek’s hand, staring blankly at the floor. His breaths felt short. He found no strength to express his pain, so he just groaned.

“Please, I’m begging you,” she cried, “Let him go.”

T-Murek forced his arm through the cavity in Sinclair’s chest. More blood spilled. Sinclair cried out in pain, his eyes wildly open. He pulled Sinclair’s arteries out of his chest while looking at Rebecca, a cocky smile on his lips. The grin on T-Murek’s face showed he enjoyed every bit of the torture. 

Sinclair uttered a breathless gasp, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Rebecca whimpered as she moved her hand to cover her mouth, watching T-Murek pull on his viscera. A thin line of tears flowed from her eyes at such revolting sight. 

Sinclair could only watch as his body was being torn apart. He shut his eyes to the sharp pain and made a face. Thick blood streamed from his chest. His shirt became matted with blood. 

T-Murek pulled on his heart, forcing it out through his chest, and Sinclair gasped sharply at the intense pain. He crushed the organ with his hands. Blood and water gushed. Sinclair’s head dropped instantly as life ebbed out of his body. Seeing that he had breathed his last, T-Murek tossed the body aside.

Sinclair hit the ground with a thud, his lifeless eyes peeking out and fixed on Rebecca, filling her with great discomfort. His face remain frozen in an open scream, expressing the anguishing pain he’d just suffered.

Gasping, Rebecca turned away in revulsion. She sobbed as she slowly turned to see what’s left of Sinclair’s body. His blood had pooled all around him. Her body quivered at such a gruesome sight.

T-Murek turned to look at her, his posture straight and his face neutral. “Where is the boy?” he questioned calmly—voice sounding dangerously low. 

“Go to hell!” she bawled, glaring at him with scorn. 

T-Murek snorted at her rage. “Do you want to die like this?” He gestured towards Sinclair’s body, which lay just a few inches away. “In a matter of minutes, your husband’s body would serve as food for the creatures that walk these woods. Do you want same fate to befall you?”

Rebecca was crying, yet she felt furious. She snarled at him, her eyes bloodshot and filled with unrestrained rage. “You would have to kill me before I let you lay a hand on my son, you bastard!”

Rebecca couldn’t understand where the sudden courage to face T-Murek came from. She felt invincible at that moment, like she could do anything—like she could take him on.

“Very well.” His lips curled into a scornful smile. “We’ll have it your way.” 

Her hands folded into a tight fist and remained at her side. And just then, she understood where the courage came from. She drew strength from the desire to keep her son alive. It scared her that she felt no fear facing him.

Before she could even stop to think, T-Murek was already onto her—his sharp claws opened to tear her—but she was quick to respond. She punched him hard in the gut, sending him crashing back into the tree behind. 

T-Murek, surprised, quickly got up, a grin settling on his lips. “Not bad at all,” he commended, sounding calm. “Not bad.”

She was breathing fast, chest heaving rapidly. In the next instance, T-Murek clutched her neck and slammed her back against a tree bark, pinning her down. Everything happened faster than her eyes could process. 

Pressing her neck against the tree, he slowly lifted her off her feet. “Now, I’m going to ask again.” This time he sounded meaner—perhaps angrier even. “Where… is… the boy?”

Rebecca let out a choking gasp. She wiggled her feet in mid-air, struggling to escape his tight grip. Blood dribbled out of her mouth. Then suddenly, she stopped fighting. Her arms dropped and her lips curved into a faint smile. 

T-Murek, puzzled by her smile, narrowed his eyes at her. “What amuses you?”

“You really want to know?” she gurgled, and her smile got a bit more inscrutable. “I’m going to die today knowing you’ll never lay a finger on my baby boy.” 

The soft cry of an infant echoed off the trees. Her eyes widened in deep horror. T-Murek slowly turned to look in the direction where he heard the cry. His smile reappeared. 

“What’s that you were saying again?” there was silent laughter in his voice.