Callen
The mist thickened the moment we crossed into the Hollow.
It clung to my skin like oil, heavy and cold, swallowing sound, sight, everything. The air had weight, and every breath scraped my lungs raw. Even my wolf whimpered inside me, his senses dulled, his instincts screaming for retreat.
Josiah walked ahead, his shoulders set, his pace steady. But even he glanced over his shoulder once, his eyes sharp, uneasy. The Alpha’s confidence was thinning, and that terrified me more than the silence.
No wind.
No life.
Only mist.
Then came the shift; a subtle pull, like the ground itself had exhaled. The mist surged between us, thick as smoke. I blinked, coughed, reached forward, and Josiah was gone.
“Alpha?” I called. My voice sounded small, crushed under the weight of the air. “Josi
