PROLOGUE
The Legend of Sanctuary
You can take my life, but you'll never break me.
So bring me your worst. . . .
And I will definitely give you mine.
Those words, written in French, still remained on the top of Nicolette Peltier's desk where she'd carved them with her bear's claw after the death of two of her sons. It wasn't just a motto, it was her angry declaration to the world that had taken her sons from her. A ruthless tragedy that had spurred her on to create the most renowned of the shapeshifter havens.
Sanctuary.
For over a century, she'd owned the famed Sanctuary bar and restaurant that rested on the corner of Ursulines and Chartres in New Orleans. There she'd reigned as the queen of her kingdom. The mother bear of her remaining twelve cubs who struggled hard every day with the grief over the sons she'd buried.
Not a day had passed that she hadn't mourned them.
Until the day war had come to their door. True to her nature and the words she'd carved as a permanent reminder of her spirit, she had done her worst and she'd protected her children with everything she had.
But that love for them had cost her her life. When her enemies moved to kill her daughter's mate, she'd protected the lycanthrope with the last of her strength and she'd given her life to save her daughter Aimee the agony of burying the wolf were she loved.
The tragedy of her loss was felt throughout the entire Were-Hunter counsel. Nicolette had been as much a legend as the club she'd owned. A club that had welcomed all creatures and promised them safety and protection so long as they obeyed her one simple rule:
Come in peace.
Or leave in pieces.
Since the night of her death, her cubs have sought to carry on without her support and guidance. No longer an official haven recognized by the Omegrion council, Sanctuary now stands outside the laws that had once shielded them and her patrons.
And that was fine with Dev Peltier. He'd never liked rules anyway.
But the war that had come to their door wasn't over.
They had only fought the opening battle. . . .