Gino ran.
The wind howled past him, whipping at his clothes, his hair, his skin. His legs burned from the force of his own speed, but he didn’t stop.
Couldn’t stop.
The hunger screamed inside him, clawing at his insides, demanding more, more, more.
But he couldn’t let it win.
Not here.
Not with them so close.
The forest blurred around him, shadows twisting and stretching in the moonlight. He barely registered the broken branches underfoot, the cool night air stinging his skin. His mind was too clouded. Too full of the scent he had left behind.
Makayla.
She had been too close.
One second longer, one more breath, and he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself.
Gino’s stomach churned violently.
He had to go further.
Had to put as much distance between himself and them as possible
