CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The forest blurs past us as Alex leads me deeper into the territory of the River Run pack. The scent of pine and earth fills my lungs, mingling with the subtle trace of him—a mixture of rain and wild sage. Despite the circumstances that brought us together, I find myself acutely aware of the strength in his stride, the confidence with which he navigates the dense woodland.
"Almost there," he says without looking back, his voice a deep timbre that resonates through the trees.
I try to focus on the scenery, the way the sunlight filters through the canopy, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. But my heart pounds against my ribcage, not just from the exertion of keeping pace with a werewolf but also from the uncertainty of what lies ahead.
We emerge into a clear
