CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The clamor of boots and clanking metal echoes off the dank walls of the loading dock. I'm pushed forward, hands bound, the metallic taste of fear sharp on my tongue. Logan is beside me, his jaw set, eyes like smoldering coals. We're corralled into the back of a truck, our pack—my family—pressed in around us.
"Move!" The SWAT commander's voice cuts through the din. Shadows from their helmets dance over us as we're herded like cattle. The truck's interior looms, dark and ominous. Logan's hand brushes against mine, a fleeting touch that sends a flicker of warmth through my veins.
"Stay close," he murmurs, so low only I can catch it. I nod, drawing strength from his presence. He's always been the constant in my chaotic world—the Beta I've admired from afar, always just out
