Page 48 of Noah

“This year’s Hunt is a damn joke,” Adrian was saying, loud enough for everyone to hear.

I glanced over and saw him standing with Karl, his expression one of clear disdain.

Karl shrugged. “Guess they don’t want us tearing into their precious deer anymore,” Karl pointed out.

Adrian scoffed. “Pathetic.”

Before I could stop myself, my gaze met Adrian’s. He smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement, and then—because of course he would—he winked.

I quickly turned back to my checklist, pretending I hadn’t seen him.

Griffin chuckled under his breath. “Subtle,” he muttered.

I sighed, shaking my head. “Don’t start.”

Griffin held up his hands in surrender, but the knowing look on his face was irritating.

I refocused on my task, but even as I worked, my mind kept drifting back to Jackson.

A run. Just the two of us. I couldn’t wait.

The energy crackled in the air as the shifters began undressing, preparing to shift.

Laughter and murmured conversations filled the space as pack members stuffed their clothes into baskets and storage boxes assigned to their respective starting areas.

It was an organized chaos of bare skin and anticipation, muscles tensing in excitement for the upcoming race.

My gaze, however, was drawn to one person.

Jackson.

He stood a few paces away, his body bathed in the golden morning light, muscles taut and ready.

His broad shoulders, powerful arms, the defined ridges of his abdomen—I could still feel the heat of his skin against mine.

I could still recall the way he’d held me the night before, the slow drag of his fingertips along my back, the way his lips had traced a path down my throat.

My stomach tightened with the memory, my face growing warm.

As if sensing my eyes on him, Jackson turned. His dark gaze locked onto mine, the heat simmering in his expression sending a thrill through my body.

The corner of his lips tilted up, almost like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

For a brief, reckless moment, I wondered if he’d just stride up to me and kiss me in front of everyone. My pulse jumped at the thought, my face flushing even more.

Then Jackson took a step toward me.

My breath caught.

But before he could get any closer, one of his brothers grabbed his attention, saying something that made Jackson pause.

I exhaled, forcing myself to look away.

I scanned the gathered shifters, noting the mix of excitement and competitive tension in the air.

The race wasn’t just about speed—it was a goodwill event, a chance for the different packs to foster camaraderie.

Unlike the old version of the hunt, which focused on taking down prey animals for sport, this was purely a race—a test of agility, endurance, and strategy.

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