I straighten up. I could sit here, starve, and cry about my feelings… or I could do what I’ve always done—survive. If Jack couldn’t feed me, I’d do it the old-fashioned way.
If bounty hunting taught me anything, it’s how to live without comfort. I’ve done it before. I can do it again.
Rabbit stew. Wolf style.
I head out of the kitchen, rubbing my hands together as I make my way to the room. I slip on Jack’s hoodie and his oversized boots, stepping outside and inhaling the crisp, piney air. The house is secluded, swallowed by dense woods—perfect for a solo hunting session. Rabbits were easy prey. And honestly? Nothing tastes better than roasted rabbit under moonlight in wolf form.
Shifting comes naturally. Bones crack, skin tightens, and fur rushes across my body. My wolf stretches with
