CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
The earth beneath my feet is uneven, a patchwork of roots and underbrush that does not care for hurried footsteps. I force myself onward, pushing through the thicket with an urgency that feels like it could outpace my heartbeat. Each pulse hammers with Vee's name, a silent mantra that has driven me ever since I learned she’d been taken.
The trees finally give way to a clearing, and there they are: the rogue wolves, their postures relaxed in the arrogance of triumph. My gaze sweeps across them, one by one, until it lands on Vee. She’s huddled against an ancient oak, her strawberry blonde hair a vivid contrast against the dark bark, her arms wrapped around her knees. Even from this distance, I can see the tremble in her limbs, the defeat in her posture—a stark difference
