AXEL
A gust of breeze sweeps across the field. It feels like the temperature has gone a notch down since Shane and I acknowledged the tense situation we're in:
There's a werewolf on the opposing team.
“You think we can take him?”
Shane shakes his head wryly. “I don't know, Ax. He's tough and fast—way too fast.” He heaves a breath. “Old magic is strong in him.”
We both turn our gaze to where the Oakville Warriors are walking out of the tunnel, huddled together. Brett steps out last, casually chewing gum, like he's not fazed in the slightest by anything.
I drag a hand through my hair. “We've got to stop him and the rest of his team.”
“We can't risk exposing ourselves.”
“Golden hair over there doesn't seem to be worried about that,” I point out.
Shane grates his jaw. “I know.
