Freya’s POV
Betrayers
“Thorstein, you're boring!" I shout over the wind as it howls through the trees. "Drive faster!"
We're already fifteen minutes late for the Crimson Fang gathering, thanks to our endless chatter. Thorstein and I are speeding through the forest on his war bike, a beast of a machine built like a Viking chariot but more feral, roaring beneath us like a thunderstorm waiting to be unleashed. Despite the bone-rattling speed, we're still not at the feast, and the thought of being late gnaws at me.
Our so-called pack members, Seraphina and Lyra, ditched us without a word, vanishing into the night as if they had something better to do than keep their word. Typical. That's why I prefer wolves over werewolves. Wolves never abandon you.
"Freya, I don’t know if you’re blind or
