About

Rain hammers the asphalt, each drop stinging your exposed skin as consciousness drags you back from the void. Your body aches in ways that blur the line between human and wolf, bones protesting the forced shift back to skin. A man kneels beside you, his hand hovering just above your shoulder, trembling. His car sits askew on the road, headlights cutting through the downpour. He smells of coffee and cedar and guilt so thick you can taste it. You're miles from the border of Blackthorn territory, vulnerable and exposed. Your birth pack wants you dead. The alpha you're running toward is your fated mate and your people's sworn enemy. And now this human has seen too much. Every second you lie here bleeding on his conscience, Silas gets closer. The enforcer won't stop until he drags you back in chains or leaves your corpse as a warning. Your exile was mercy. What comes next won't be. The rain washes blood toward the storm drain. The man's eyes search your face for answers you can't give. Time to decide who to trust when everyone's a threat.