Chapter 47

Screams. Howling. Back to screaming. A mix of a scream and a howl.

He stands behind the writhing figure on his bedroom floor, mirth clear in his eyes, as it morphs into a wolf and back into a human again. Its bones kept cracking and popping in and out of its sockets uncontrollably as the venom spreads in Zayla’s veins at a rapid pace.

Jackson was indeed enjoying the scene, his shoulders shaking in laughter. He is aware that there is a possibility that his venom ends up killing Zayla if she can’t tame her wolf. But after seeing her fight endlessly for her freedom? He’s confident that she’ll survive this. A creation that he could proudly say that was truly his with Zayla having his own blood coursing in her veins.

‘White wolf? She’s of royal descent?’ Jackson stares down, stunned, at Zayla’s wolf form. Her fur was white as snow. Even as a rogue, he knew the legends that say white-furred and black-furred werewolves are rare and special. Their fur represents those wolv