EMMA
The wolf didn’t move.
That was the first thing my panicking mind latched onto—like a lifeline thrown into deep water. He didn’t lunge. Didn’t snarl. Didn’t bare his teeth or close the distance between us in a blur of muscle and instinct.
He stayed exactly where he was.
Still.
Controlled.
Waiting.
My breath came in short, sharp bursts, my back pressed hard against the cold metal of the door. Every nerve in my body screamed that this was the moment prey ran—or died. My legs trembled violently, but they didn’t carry me anywhere. They refused. As if some unseen force had nailed my feet to the floor.
The wolf’s chest rose and fell slowly, deliberately, like he was counting every breath. Like he was holding something massive inside himself at bay.
Me.
The golden eyes never left my
