Max
We'd gotten as close as we could by vehicle—now it was on foot. We sprinted through the ruins of derelict buildings and broken homes, closing in. I felt her. She was here. Alive. Hurting. And every breath I took burned with the need to find her.
Tyson paced inside me, feral and bloodthirsty, vibrating with rage and ready to tear apart anyone who stood between us and our mate.
The sharp, rancid stench of rogues hit us hard—half a mile out from the school.
“Be ready. You smell that?” I linked to the team. “They’re close.”
We barely made it past the old school housing before the first wave hit. No warning, just claws and snarls and blood.
I shifted mid-run, bones snapping and reforming into Tyson’s full alpha form. The first rogue didn’t stand a chance—I tore into his neck and flung
