Chapter Fourteen
Killian
The smell of burning rubber and fresh, iron-rich blood hit my nose a split second before my headlights caught the disaster.
Up ahead, the emergency transport ambulance had been completely broadsided. The impact had forced its heavy chassis into a violent, sideways skid across the rain-slicked Parisian asphalt, leaving long, black burn marks that gleamed under the streetlights. A massive, heavy-duty delivery truck was rammed straight into its midsection, its crumpled radiator smoking heavily in the damp night air.
But my wolf knew instantly that this wasn't an ordinary traffic accident. The air didn't just smell like gasoline; it was thick with the foul, bitter, and unmistakable stench of rogue wolves. The predatory odor cut straight through the heavy downpour
