By the time we stumbled into the little human town, we looked like we crawled out of a swamp. No shoes. Soaked clothes. Mud up to my calves. Hair plastered to my face. And, because the universe loves a dramatic punchline, Alpha “I’m Too Serious For Life” Gregor stomped into the shabby little inn like he was conquering a kingdom.
We were supposed to be at the next safehouse. Nice, quiet, hidden from the world. Maybe with actual food and—gods forbid—dry socks. But no. According to Zach, our brilliant little tech wizard, the Black Fangs were already there, setting a damn welcome party with blades and wolfsbane cocktails.
So here we were. In the middle of human territory. Looking like two beggars who got thrown out of a bar fight.
Gregor stalked beside me, broad shoulders hunched into a coa
