I slip into the corridor, careful to keep my steps light, but there’s no escaping the wolf-musk clinging to me like a warning flare. Every step is a breadcrumb leading straight back here. I can't go back to my room like this, not even to use the shower. If Jax is there waiting for me...
Then a thought occurs to me. It has to be late now—or early, really, just a couple of hours before sunrise—and the communal showers might be empty. I gamble on it.
Silverpaw Academy’s stone hallways absorb sound, and my boots barely make a whisper as I ghost through them. The communal shower lies at the end of the west corridor near the training grounds. It’s easy to find—a single wooden door, nothing fancy, just warped at the bottom from all the steam pumped up by the boiler room below. If you’re used to
