The Dead (The Wilds, #3)

by Donna Augustine

I would’ve done the same; that was how come I knew it would work. When it came to death, nothing in this world really wanted to die. Not the plants, animals, people, or even the monsters.

People reacted differently to Dax, in one way or another. Some liked him more, some less. Others, which were the good majority, feared him.

It wasn’t very surprising how the night had gone down. Humans had pecking orders, same as a pack of wolves did. I’d just shown them where I fit in. I was an alpha and they better not forget it. There was only one person alive who I considered my equal, and he wasn’t here at the moment. Good luck, boys. There’s a new bitch in town.

I must have seemed like the ballsiest girl ever to the guys on deck because I didn’t even step back, relishing in the proximity, the smell of him, which was this unique blend of forest and clean air and made me think of being surrounded by nature.

Togetherness was an illusion for the weak. From the second we’re born, we’re alone, and maybe that’s how it should be. All people did was hurt you, even when they didn’t mean to.

“Yeah, you are. The funniest part about it is, most people are scared to be alone. You seem to have the opposite affliction.”