A veil of sun pricked Max awake, revealing a canopy of leaves where a ceiling should be. The aftereffects of the werewolf thrummed beneath his skin, a constant reminder of his failed transformation. They'd taken a desperate gamble, killing the wolf Silas in a twisted ritual to end his lycanthropy by slaying Silas. But the agonizing shift back had yielded no calm. Doubt got at him. Had they been wrong? Killed Chris Hackett for nothing? He groaned, the weight of the decision pressing down on him.