The SUV hummed under my hands, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out Scar.
My wolf paced, tail snapping, restless as hell for one damn reason.
Snowflake.
She sat tucked between Rory and Jax, arms folded tight over her chest like that could protect her from the four of us. Cute thought. Totally useless. Her scent had already soaked into the leather—honey-pined and rain threaded with something sharp, defensive, exhausted. Like she was holding her ribs together with sheer willpower.
She didn’t realize the bond made her an open book.
Scar didn’t care that she was quiet. He wanted her. Wanted to soothe, bite, pull her into our lap and make her melt. I gripped the wheel harder.
Cal sat shotgun, too calm, like he was memorizing her breathing pattern through the rearview. I caught Jax’s ref
