CALEB’S POV
I eased my Porsche 911 Turbo S into Crestwood’s parking lot, the engine’s growl fading as I killed it. The morning sun glinted off the car’s sleek black curves, a $200,000 statement of my status as an Alpha’s don, a far cry from the punishment my father had intended when he banished me to this disgusting world. I’d messed up again—crossed a line in the pack, defied him one too many times—and he’d shipped me to this human-infested city to hunt for the supposed Moonborn, a girl destined to destroy him. I didn’t ask questions. Questions got you scars and four full moon of torture in the dark basement. I just nodded, packed, and left the pack for this concrete jungle.
I stepped out, my boots hitting the asphalt, my leather jacket creakin. The campus buzzed, students spilling from
