The two men closed in on me, their faces grim with determination. I was eleven years old, small for my age, and terrified as they backed me against the library wall.
"Please don't," I whispered, but my pleas fell on deaf ears.
Silas reached into his robe and pulled out a shimmering length of silk, unnaturally bright even in the dim light of the orphanage library. "Hold her," he instructed Pollux.
I tried to run, but Pollux was faster. His hands clamped around my upper arms, surprisingly strong for a man who appeared so gentle moments before. I kicked and squirmed, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"No! Let me go!" I screamed, hoping someone—anyone—would hear me.
"The binding must be done now," Silas said firmly. "Her wolf is stirring. We've waited too long already."
My wolf? What did that mean? I didn't understand, but something deep inside me responded to those words—something wild and frightened that I'd never known was there.
