The howls continued through the afternoon and into the evening.
I waited in our hut, my heart pounding with every distant cry, my mind spinning with everything that had happened. Damon's suspicious look. The kiss that should never have happened. The guilt that sat like a stone in my chest.
When the door finally opened, I jumped to my feet.
Damon stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the fading light. He was covered in dirt and blood—none of it his, I hoped—and his face was carved from stone.
"False alarm," he said flatly. "A rogue wolf, nothing more. The patrol handled it."
I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "Thank the moon."
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The sound of the latch clicking into place seemed impossibly loud.
"We need to talk." His
