chapter 17

Ridge

It’s been a while since I last ran—the full-out sprint of a wolf with a mission or a wolf at play, sprinting through the mountains as if every hill is a racetrack.

It’s a freeing kind of run, cosmic and powerful.

When I’m on patrol, I keep my steps measured and even. It’s too easy to let the landscape slide by without seeing potential threats if you don’t stop and smell the fucking roses, as my father used to say.

My paws thud against the ground and the cool mountain wind whips past my ears. Archer and Trystan flank me, their keen gazes aware of our surroundings even as the trees and rock flash by at lightning speed. If I had to be alone in the wilderness for any indefinite period of time, I have to admit, these two men aren’t the worst backup a wolf could ask for. They’re both strong and smart. Trystan’s attitude problem makes me want to gut him with my bare claws sometimes, and Archer bears more pain than I think he realizes he lets on to the world. Between his abduction as a