I rolled down my window, locking eyes with the inspector.

“Gamma Rho,” he said, immediately recognizing me.

“You may pass.”

I nodded once and drove on, heading out of Windsor City toward the small, desolate town known as Skull Lands.

The further I went, the more the air felt heavier, almost haunted. Soon, skulls began appearing along the path, bleached white reminders of the bloody battle fought here centuries ago. It was said that this ground drank the blood of a lot of werewolves. Windsor Pack was also among those who fought in the war, and though I didn’t know the full story of what started the war, the land...