ADRIAN
The cold hit my lungs the second I stepped outside.
Winter in Aragon didn’t play nice. The air cut deep, sharp and clean, carrying pine, snow, and the distant smoke of morning fires. Christmas lights still hung across the pack grounds, glowing soft gold against the gray dawn. They blinked gently, like they were trying to remind everyone that joy still existed—even with tension crawling through the land.
My wolf stirred.
Fern lifted his head inside me, restless.
Run, he urged.
“I know,” I muttered.
I stripped in the tree line and let the shift take me.
Bones cracked. Skin burned. The familiar pain ripped through me like lightning, then vanished as fur exploded across my body. The world sharpened instantly. Smells came alive. Sound deepened. My heartbeat synced with the forest
