Deke
After the fight, Channing’s wolf pants on the side of the road, blood slicking his fur, staining the white patches red. With a silent snarl, he slinks into the brush, heading off to lick his wounds and shift.
The rage inside me still burns. My wolf walks stiff legged back to my bike. Scraps of white fabric litter the ground. My t-shirt. The one Sadie dug her hands into when I kissed her. The fabric still bears her scent.
I point my nose to the moon and howl.
After I shift, I ride for an extra hour, up and down Taos Mountain until my hands are stiff on the handlebars. Then I turn and head down the dark road home.
The pack bought a mountain lodge sometime back. We always knew we’d need to retire someplace remote where we can run free as wolves. Last year, Rafe decided it was time t
