SKY
Lamen is standing on the far side of the truck, his shadow stretching long under the dim streetlight. My brain is racing so fast that I don’t even think before leaping into the passenger seat. Not my brightest move, I’ll admit. Why do I always do reckless things? What did I even plan to do—drive the truck myself?
The trucker stumbles back, his face pale, as the low, menacing growls of Lamen and his pack ripple through the air. He sniffs sharply, his voice cutting through the night.
“I can smell her. I know you’re hiding her. She’s here. Give her to us, and you won’t get hurt.”
Lamen’s voice is thick with threat, and it sends shivers down my spine. My heart pounds against my ribs as I grab my knapsack and sling it over my shoulder. The next second, the trucker hauls himself into the
