Chapter 4

The Midnight Run Trail smelled of damp earth and distant storms, my wolf relishing the freedom of her four-legged form.

I’d run for miles, each stride pounding away the memory of Damien’s betrayal, when the hairs on my nape rose.

A rogue stench—acrid, like burnt fur—hit me first. Then the sound of padded footsteps, deliberately muffled but unmistakable to a wolf’s ears.

I whirled, but the attack came from above.

A shadow dropped from the ancient oak, claws aimed for my throat.

I twisted, but her grip was iron, slamming me into the trunk. “You think you can steal my…