Wolves paced the ditches like shadows with pulse. Their eyes didn't flinch from headlights; their paws barely hissed over gravel. The convoy moved at a careful crawl—Charlotte's father's sedan in front, her mother's car behind, Thunder Fang split to either side like a quiet river.
“Are we safe?" Charlotte's mother asked, voice thin but steady.
“Yes," Charlotte said, watching a gray wolf lope past her window with an easy, economical gait. “For now."
Her father glanced at the rearview mirror. “They move like a drill team."
“Because they are," Charlotte said. “Thunder Fang doesn't improvise."
Headlights crowned the next rise behind them. Harrison's SUV kept distance but didn't vanish. Brandon's car followed. The county deputy trailed, grateful to have someone else to decide things now.
