The little boy stood there, his small frame caught in the heaviness of a room teetering on the edge of history. His grip on the pillow tightened, eyes wide as he looked from his mother to the stranger with a dagger at his throat, and then to the man beside them who he had come to know as Grandpa, holding a gun that had just been lowered.
He didn't understand the undercurrent, the shadows stretching long between the three adults, but even in his innocence, he understood danger. He understood tension.
Williams swallowed hard, his gaze locked on the boy. Time seemed to warp around him. He didn't breathe. Couldn't. Not with that face staring back at him. The child was most definitely not human he's got werewolf blood running in his veins and not just any werewolf blood alpha blood.
