NOLA

“Eyes peeled Reynolds, we're almost to the mountain city,” The Lycan growled and I heaved a ragged breath behind him, cutting my eyes at the broad line of his back and biting down on the urge to lunge at the back of his head with a wooden oar.

If I peeled my eyes any wider than they already were I was almost certain they would dry up and fall out of my sockets.

The boom of thunder rumbling through the overcast darkness of the sky above further added to the foreboding I was sure rattled through the workers and remaining footmen as only the shuffle of iron feet and...