XANDER
I was sleeping soundly for the first time in weeks when the persistent buzzing of my phone dragged me toward consciousness.
I groaned, rolling over and swatting at the nightstand until my fingers closed around the vibrating rectangle, feeling adrenaline starting to rush: a late-night call usually meant a perimeter breach, a rogue sighting, or any other sort of crisis.
“Alpha Xander, Lone Moon pack,” I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep.
“WHERE IS SHE?!”
The roaring, desperate scream that tore through the speaker almost shattered my eardrum. If the sheer volume hadn't done the trick of snapping me awake, my brain instantly recognizing that voice—and registering the absolute panic and suffocating rage vibrating within it—certainly did.
My wolf instantly stood at attention, barin
