The forest is *too* quiet.
The scent of *pine* and *dirt* and *betrayal* is thick in the air, *cloying*, *sickening*. The *moon* is *bright* in the *black* sky, casting *shadows* that *dance* like *demons* on the forest floor.
I *move* through the trees, my claws *extended*, my voice a low, hungry *growl*. The bond *pulses* between me and the pack, bright and *unstoppable*. I can *feel* them—Knox’s *rage*, Zane’s *control*, Jax’s *chaos*, Micah’s *mischief*, Cole’s *devotion*. It’s *overwhelming*. It’s *intoxicating*. It’s *f*****g* mine.
But they’re *not* here.
I *told* them to *stay* back.
*f*****g* idiots.
*f*****g* stubborn, *beautiful* idiots.
---
The clearing *opens* before me, the *moonlight* *flooding* the space, the scent of *blood* and *rage* thick in the air.
And then I
