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Wyatt fought well until one wolf attacked from his blind side. I sucked in a breath as his flesh tore away, leaving a bloody gash. Wyatt yowled, and the second feral took the opening. It grabbed Wyatt by his throat and slung him into the pond.

Instantly thrashing to the surface back in his human form, Wyatt let out a bloodcurdling scream as the wolfsbane soaked into his skin. The wolves on the edge of the pond looked on in silence as Wyatt gagged and spat the poisoned water from his mouth. My nails dug into my palms as I watched him struggle. I was begging him, in hushed whispers, to swim to the edge.

“Swim, Wyatt. You have to swim. Hurry.”

If he heard me, he made no attempt to do what I wanted. His arms slowed, and I saw the pain in his face turn to agony, then he began to slip under. His body succumbed to the poison. I was about to watch Wyatt drown right in front of me.

The thought sent a jolt of terror and heartache through me. I shuddered and hit my knees, watching him give a few