AT THE LOG CABIN
“Feeling a bit better?” a prudish voice enquired.
The smell of wolfsbane was clear as it wafted in the air. This isn’t the ladies’ room and there was something weird about this place, the awful smell. It was the stench of death. A place alpha Jones let the white witches torture the rogue werewolves when captured. It's a place of death if the rogue werewolf fails to acknowledge alpha Jones as the true alpha.
Vivian opened her eyes to the bright sun rays. She is chained to a wooden chair that she could barely move. She feels weak and feverish as a result of wolfsbane being injected into her by Judy.
“Where in the hell am I?” she mutters below her breath. Her head was still reeling from the concussion of wolfsbane injected into her. It hurt really bad even to try to make
