A wild animal was racing up and down the rows of parked cars. Scott McCall could hear it growling; when he focused his werewolf vision, he could see flashes of it as it slunk along, stalking warm prey. People ran, leaped into their cars, didn’t look where they were going. Someone backed into Sheriff Stilinski and he fell down, hard enough to make it impossible for him to get to his ankle holster. Then Allison’s father shot twice. And it was over. Scott kept Allison in his sights as they joined the circle forming silent witness to the execution. On the ground lay a mountain lion—the mountain lion that everyone had been blaming for all the brutal deaths in Beacon Hills, a small California town. But Scott knew it had done nothing to deserve this. It hadn’t even wandered onto school grounds of its own accord. It had been lured. And the deaths would not end. Somewhere out there, the real culprit was watching. Gloating. The Alpha, the werewolf that had bitten Scott and cursed him, was still at large, still free to kill.
