Sindy
The word hunt echoed in my chest like a gunshot.
For a second, I thought I’d misheard him. That maybe my exhausted brain twisted his words, that I’d imagined the smug curve of his mouth when he said it. But the way he stood there—confident, immovable, utterly certain—told me I hadn’t.
He meant it.
He wanted me to join them.
The image slammed into me—wolves, massive and feral, sprinting through the trees under the moonlight, teeth flashing, claws tearing, blood spilling into the dirt. And me, stumbling among them, prey instead of predator.
My stomach twisted so violently I thought I might be sick.
“You’re insane,” I whispered, my voice sharper than I intended.
Lorenzo didn’t flinch. He leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. “No. I’m certain.”
The words sent a shiver do
