CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
I can almost taste the tang of metal and dust that hangs in the air as the Ironfur pack navigates the labyrinth of back alleys, dodging the glare of streetlights like nocturnal creatures. The city's cacophony dwindles behind us, giving way to an eerie quiet that precedes the wilderness of the urban edge. We're a ghostly caravan, our paws – both human and lupine – are silent on the cracked pavement, determined but wary.
The safe house is close; I know it by the way Ezra’s shoulders set – firm, unyielding, a ship's prow cutting through stormy seas. He doesn't look back at us, but his presence is a lighthouse beacon, guiding us through darkness both literal and figurative.
"Stay alert," he murmurs just loud enough for us to hear. "We're almost there." His voice is the thr
