Maya's POV
"Luna, no!" I lunged across the nursery as my daughter's tiny hands began to sprout claws. Her midnight-blue eyes had changed to a brilliant silver, and her baby babbles turned into growls that no six-month-old should make.
The guards outside the door burst in, guns ready.
"What's happening?" demanded Kira, the wolf from the Mountain Pack assigned to today's security duty.
"Get out!" I shouted. "And keep everyone away!"
Reluctantly, they backed out, closed the door behind them. I knew they'd stay just outside, ready to intervene if required.
Luna's face scrunched up, her little nose elongating slightly as fur started to sprout along her chubby arms. The silver markings on her skin blazed like stars.
"It's not possible," I whispered, heart racing. Werewolf children didn't shift until puberty. Never in written history had a baby transformed. "You're too young, sweetie."
