The truck rattled over the rough mountain road, tires kicking up dust that hung in the air like ghosts. Lina stared out the window, hand on her stomach where the baby kicked harder now—strong, insistent, almost impatient.
Zane drove in silence, jaw tight. Every few minutes his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, checking for tails.
Elara sat in the back, phone in hand, typing furiously then deleting. Lina noticed.
“You’ve been texting someone since we left,” Lina said quietly.
Elara froze. Looked up. “Just… pack business. Updates.”
Zane’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Pack business with Ironfang scent on your messages?”
Elara’s face paled. “Zane—”
“Don’t lie to me, sister.” His voice was low, dangerous. “I can smell him on you. Rowan.”
Silence fell heavy in the cab.
Lina turned
