NOLA REYNOLDS

‘You could die here, Nola farthing child,’ Uncle Ben’s scratchy warning bounced around in my head making me feel as though I’d shot crack straight up my asshole as I stood with shaky legs, in the foyer of the Lycan’s stone castle.

My mind raced as the man’s gray eyes fixed on me almost desperately, his hand still gripping the hilt of the long silver sword tightly.

I swallowed a ball of saliva so large it got stuck in my throat and I floundered for a moment, before licking my lips and hardening the wobbly line of my jaw.

“If you want someone to punish, punish me! Execute...