The waves crashing against rocks fill my ears.
My father is planning on killing me tonight. One of us is going to be dead by the end of this night, and the odds are not in my favor.
I think I am doomed and there is no way out. With each punch and kick, the ground comes closer to me … or I get closer to the ground.
Everything is slowing down, I can see the faces of the werewolves who have been hunting beside me as they cheer on, pint, and shout, urging the fight to go on. Instead of seeing the rogues' faces, I see my pack members, the members that I left, who I didn't think would help me.
"Are you giving up already?"
No, never. How can I ever give up?
"You are pathetic," I sneer as I spit blood. "To kill me you have to weaken me? Is that how desperate and a coward of a man you are?"
