Shadow Army Lieutenant POV
March. Kill. Obey.
The words pounded through my brain like hammer blows, forcing my dead legs to keep moving toward the Nightfall pack house. But underneath the magical orders, something else stirred.
A memory of my daughter's laugh.
No, I told myself. I don't have a kid. I'm dead. The dead don't have families.
But even as I tried to push it away, I could see her face. Emma. Seven years old, with my brown eyes and her mother's stubborn chin. She used to climb on my back when I was in wolf form, giggling as I carried her around our area.
March. Kill. Obey.
My dead feet kept moving, but my mind fought against the necromantic control. How long had I been dead? Months? Years? The Council's magic made it hard to think, hard to remember anything except the need to destroy their enemies.
But that little girl's face wouldn't leave me alone.
