Page 31 of The Weakest Wolf

But I don’t take a step forward as Galen moves further and further away.

The rest of the pack studies me, their eyes dark with spite.

I take a step back.

Galen growls for the run to begin.

I back up another step because I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t.

My eyes meet Bowen’s, and he shows me his teeth. Fear explodes in my head, blinding me to everything but the need to hide.

Wheeling around, I run for my cabin. Someone follows.

I know they won’t catch me. I won’t let them.

The cabin door is suddenly right there. I throw myself at it. Wood splinters and it buckles under my weight, flying open with a crack.

I sprint for the bathroom, mentally screaming as I do.Shift. Shift now. Shift.

8

GALEN

Inearly catch her just outside her cabin but slow, thinking she will too.

She doesn’t.

She rams her cabin door wide open, breaking the hinges, and the door flies open.

I stare at the splintered door. Why the fuck is she so desperate to get inside that she’d break the door down like that? It’s a pack run, yet she’s acting like I’m about to throw her in hot tar.

Shaking my head, I continue into the cabin.

Her scent cuts through the room with little in the way of furniture except for a wobbly clothes rail and a single bed pushed up against one wall. There’s a door I must’ve missed before when I was last here, but now that it’s wide open, I see it.

It’s there I go.

The first thing that hits me is how little I want to take even one step inside.

At all.

Like most wolves, I have no love of small rooms, closets, small cars—you get the picture—but this bathroom?

My wolf wants nothing more than to turn around and walk right out of here.

And I would…

If it wasn’t for the sleek brown wolf with the liquid silver eyes hiding in the back of the shower stall.

I knew her eyes would be silver.

Somehow, the tiny white-tiled bathroom doesn’t bother her one bit. Maybe it does. Maybe that’s why the bathroom is so thick with the scent of her terror that I can taste it on my tongue.

But after what she just did to her cabin door, I doubt it.

Rich russet brown fur on the wolf’s back ripples and pretty peach-gold skin takes its place.

Wolves can’t frown, but what she’s doing has me frowning hard.

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