Chapter 105 The Night Of The Murder: The Price Of Power

• Bermont’s throat had been ripped out, his body lying lifeless on his desk, his empty face blankly regarding the ceiling. And beside him, Lyanna, her elongated body twisted into an impossible shape, her beautiful face contorted into face of terror.
• Thane's stomach lurched. This wasn’t a clean kill. It was a massacre.
• The room was trashed, desecrated by gigantic claw marks bigger than what any wolf could have left and through his friend. Obscene symbols, painted red, thick black smudges, painted on the walls. It was an abomination of deformed, ritualistic butchery, painted to look like that of some horrific supernatural being.