Page 8 of The Pack

The memory of the fight lingered in my mind, flashes of teeth and claws, of those five massive, beautiful wolves. They weren’t like the shifters I’d fought so far. They didn’t move like mindless beasts. There was something… different about them.

But I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I needed to keep moving.

My muscles ached as I pushed myself to my feet. I glanced back up the slope, half-expecting to see those wolves standing there, watching me.

But the forest was still.

For now, I was alone.

I had no idea where I was going or what was waiting for me ahead, but one thing was certain: I couldn’t stop. Not until I was sure I was safe.

If that was even possible anymore.

I needed another weapon.

My eyes scanned the ground as I trudged along, desperate for anything I could use. And then I saw a branch lying on the bank of the stream, half-buried in mud.

It wasn’t perfect. It was too long and too rough, but it was thick and solid, and it had a pointed end where it had snapped.

A poor woman’s spear.

I strode over to it, wiping the mud away and testing its weight in my hands. It was lighter than I expected, but it felt good.

My grip tightened as I turned back toward the forest, my ears straining for any sound. I still didn’t trust the quiet, not after everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

The wind shifted, carrying a scent that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Earthy. Musky. Strangely enticing…

Wolf…

I froze, my heart slamming against my ribs.

The controlled wolves appeared without warning, their massive forms emerging from the forest above. One by one, they leapt down into the ravine with unnaturally beautiful grace, landing lightly on the rocky bank not far from me.

I backed up, my hands shaking as I held the stick in front of me like a shield. All five of them stopped and turned their heads toward me.

Their glowing eyes locked onto me, intelligent and unyielding. They didn’t snarl or growl like the other shifters had. They didn’t need to. Their presence alone was enough to send a chill racing down my spine.

“What do you want?” I demanded, my voice cracking a little despite my best effort to sound strong. My knuckles whitened as I gripped the stick, the pointed end trembling slightly. “Stay back!”

The silver wolf, the one that had led the charge against the shifters, stepped forward. Its fur gleamed in the sunlight, itssheer size dwarfing any wolf I’d ever seen before, including those vile ones that had tried to kill me. It moved slowly, as if it were trying not to scare me.

Too late for that.

It stopped a few feet away, its head tilting slightly as it studied me.

“I said,stay back!” I shouted, lunging forward with the stick.

I jabbed the pointed end toward the wolf, desperate to keep it away. But as I struck out, something impossible happened.

The wolf moved with blinding speed, dodging my jab. In the same instant, its form rippled and shifted, its fur melting away to reveal skin, its snout retracting into the much sharper line of a human jaw.

Before I could react, the wolf was gone.

In its place stood a man.

No, not just a man. A living fucking god.

He was tall and lean, his muscles carved like stone. His skin was sun-kissed, as if he’d spent his whole life outdoors, and his dark hair—short and tousled—gleamed like polished steel. His eyes, the same piercing silver as the wolf’s fur, bore into mine, their intensity freezing me in place right where I stood.

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