The room went silent.
Not ordinary silence.
The kind that presses against your skin.
The kind that makes instinct rise before thought can catch up.
The wolf on the bed was trembling now, his injured body tense beneath the sheets, eyes locked on the rain-streaked window like he expected death itself to come crashing through it.
“He’s here,” he whispered again.
My pulse slowed instead of racing.
Because deep down…
I already knew.
The storm outside intensified suddenly, rain hammering harder against the glass. Thunder rolled low across the city, distant but heavy enough to vibrate through the floor beneath my feet.
This wasn’t natural.
Not entirely.
The wolf’s breathing turned shallow.
“You need to calm down,” I said, stepping closer carefully.
“You don’t understand,” he rasped.
