Evelyn woke to the sound of rustling outside the cabin.
For a moment, disoriented by sleep, she forgot where she was. But then the scent of pine and smoke filled her lungs, and reality settled in. She wasn’t in the Silvercrest Pack anymore. She wasn’t waiting for Damien to change his mind.
She was here, in rogue territory, with Ronan.
Her muscles ached as she pushed herself up from the cot. The wound on her shoulder throbbed, but it was healing faster than expected. At least that was one benefit of being a werewolf—wounds that would kill a human barely slowed her down for long.
The rustling outside continued.
Evelyn swung her legs over the edge of the bed and padded to the window. Through the glass, she spotted Ronan in the clearing, moving through a series of fighting stances. His ba
