The Silver Wolf burst from the treeline like a thunderclap, his paws churning the earth into furrows of mud and grass. He didn't just run; he threw himself forward, driven by a psychic tether that was fraying with every second. As he crested the final rise, Leela’s scream—that raw, visceral call of his name—ripped through the bond, hitting him with the force of a physical blow.
He didn't slow down for the front doors; instead, he hit them at a dead run, making the heavy oak swing wide. Without pause, he charged through the halls and up the stairs. The transition from wolf to man overtook him in a violent, blurred symphony of snapping bone and shifting muscle. Ignoring the agony of the shift, he pressed onward, focused only on the ominous silence coming from the master suite.
Finnegan lun
