SAMIRA
Morning light cuts through cheap motel curtains, painting everything the color of old honey. I wake wrapped around Gray like he's the only solid thing in a world that keeps shifting beneath my feet. His heartbeat thuds steady under my ear, and I count the rhythm while pretending to still be asleep. Don't want this to end yet—this stolen warmth, this borrowed safety.
His fingers trace lazy patterns on my shoulder blade. "I know you're awake."
Caught. I press my face harder into his chest, breathing in pine and winter storms and something underneath that makes my dead wolf stir in whatever hollow space she haunts. "How'd you know?"
"Your breathing changed."
I tilt my head back to look at him. Morning stubble shadows his jaw, and his hair sticks up in ways that make him look young
