Our Enemy

*Isla*

It’s a beautiful, clear night. Waves brush against the rocky shore of the private island in the Teal Isles, a small group of islands roughly forty miles south of Maatua. The moon is full and bright, casting a long silver beam across the practically still ocean.

On a night like this, Maddox and I normally would have shifted and gone for a nice long run through the tropical forest surrounding Maatua.

But now I’m standing by a window in a snug, wood paneled bedroom in the massive vacation home of the Alpha and Luna of Maatua wondering how we got to this point.

I turn my head to look at the bed in the center of the room where Ryatt is lying on his side, his eyes pinched shut as he sleeps.

He died at least twice today, three times if we count the moment his heart stopped during the surgery to mend and close a dozen stab wounds to his chest and abdomen. My tears were the only thing keeping him alive, even when his body repeatedly tried to give up.

He’s stable now, at least. His