Michael
The field reeked of blood and smoke.
It clung to the dirt, slick and coppery, seeping into every breath I drew. Wolves padded through the wreckage around me—our own moving with grim efficiency, City Moon’s sprawled in the grass like discarded husks. The ground was still warm where bodies had fallen, steam rising in faint wisps against the cold Alaskan night.
This was what victory looked like.
And it felt nothing like triumph.
I flexed my hands, claws half-extended, Nicolai pacing inside me. My wolf wasn’t interested in the cleanup. He wasn’t interested in anything except that scent still burning through my lungs. Pine and lilies. Fresh, wild, sweet in a way no battlefield should allow.
Mate, Nicolai growled, his voice low and rough. She’s close. Too close to ignore.
I clench
