The storm came in the early hours of morning, thick clouds rolling in like smoke across the treetops. Wind rattled the windows of the packhouse, thunder growling low and steady over the mountains. I stood by the window wrapped in one of Kane’s shirts, my arms folded tight across my chest as rain pelted the glass.
Sleep had been a lost cause.
There was a feeling I couldn’t shake, something just beneath the surface of the air, something alive. Not just the tension from yesterday’s confrontation with the pack, or even the unsettling silence Syren had left behind after her last message.
It was something older. Something primal.
Behind me, Kane stirred. The bed creaked as he sat up, rubbing a hand across his face. “You’re up early,” he muttered, voice still heavy with sleep.
“I never reall
