Draven’s POVCrossing the boundary stones of my territory should have brought relief.For some years now, those markers had meant safety—meant home. They were soaked in old magic and older blood, reinforced by generations of Alpha authority. No enemy crossed them lightly. No mindless rogue dared linger too close.And yet, as the bike roared past them and the forest thinned into familiar paths, my chest only tightened.Allene’s arms were wrapped around my waist, but there was no strength in the hold. Her fingers rested there as if out of habit, not trust. Her head leaned against my back, light as if she might drift away if I slowed.Her breathing was shallow.Too shallow.Her scent, gods m, her scent was wrong.They must have done a number on her while she was being held captive.It should have been sharp, wild, unmistakably her. Instead, it was dulled, muddied by fear-sweat and dried blood and something acrid that made my wolf bare its teeth. Chemicals. Sedatives. Something meant to k
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