A lone Wyr is a Nephilim Wyr. One year ago, six weeks before Abednego found Samantha Trent, Shawn Garrou lost his whole pack. Rather, his parents, the alpha pair, turned Nephilim, and the pack followed. Shawn hadn’t and they had attacked him. And he’d killed them all. Now he was at the mercy of Ilya Nicholaevich. The Bane. The Ice Prince of those godforsaken Panthyr! Garrou needed a pack, but no Wyr in his right mind would take him in. He still had his casino, Shawn’s, which was run by his cousins in White Tree, but he didn’t dare go inside. Shawn was strong, always had been, and whether he wanted to or not, he could take ‘em. But he was also a ticking time bomb and everyone knew it. He'd had one chance, and he let her go eight years ago. But dare or no dare, ticking or not, the Panthyr had a plan, and that plan, right then, involved Shawn walking into a casino full of righteous Wyr. And walking out alive with whoever Ilya wanted him to meet in there. Cats!
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