Dante
The wind tasted wrong.
It carried more than the usual scent of motor oil, moon-baked asphalt, and the distant tang of pine. It carried fear. Not just any fear—her fear. Shirley’s. Faint, fading, but unmistakable. My wolf stirred beneath the surface, restless, pissed, and pacing.
I leaned against the hood of my bike, eyes trained on the road in front of the bar, but my mind was a storm. Shirley had stormed off last night after the fight with Asher. Her voice still echoed in my ears, brittle and sharp with betrayal.
“Both of you—leave me the hell alone!”
But how could I? The mate bond didn’t let me. And more than that, I didn’t want to. I couldn’t walk away knowing she was still being pulled into a world she didn’t fully understand. A world I’d kill to protect her from. Hell, I a
