Fate was a fickle mistress. She gave Sophie immortality, magic, and a great tolerance for whisky. She also made sure Sophie tasted death, made sure it clung to her bones, sank into her marrow. She gave Sophie power that came from death and brought death with it. Her own. And everyone she knew and loved. If she didn't learn to control it, that was. She had been meaning to pencil it in, but the apocalypse had been licking at her combat boots and she got busy. But she was kicking magical butt, because she was awesome. Then the witch discovered the one thing she couldn't handle, the one thing that would offer complete destruction. A wolf. Her wolf. Broken. Dangerous. Wild. His life tangled up in hers, without a choice from either of them. A fault in fate, bringing two broken, wild, and dangerous immortals together. Sophie quite literally screwed the pooch on this one.