Page 67 of The Strongest Wolf

“Sir?” A male voice punctures a thing I didn’t know I wanted until now.

A wolf pup with Sierra’s silver eyes.

Blinking, I take in the man in the white dress shirt holding my credit card toward me. “Your card, sir.”

“Thanks.” I pocket it before reaching for the bag he offers. A bag that contains the most important thing that I stopped on my long drive to pick up. My new cell phone, and a way to stay in touch with Sierra.

I’m not even a quarter of the way to New York yet, and I’m already regretting having left at all.

With my bag of phone and accessories in hand, I leave the store and head for my truck. My next stop is a drive-thru so I can grab some lunch and continue on my journey. But first I have a couple of calls to make.

Why the fuck companies love to wrap everything in plastic so thin you need a knife to get it open drives me fucking insane. Cursing whoever invented it, I wrestle with the box as I fight to get it open.

In the end, I shift one finger and use my claw to slice into the cell phone box. Not wise when I’m in an outdoor shopping mall in the early morning with people constantly passing in front of my truck, but today, I’mjustclinging to my patience. For how much longer remains to be seen.

Setting up the cell phone takes forever, but once I’ve turned it on, I release a breath of relief. A half-full battery.Thank fuck.At least I don’t have to charge it and wait longer to call Sierra.

Dialing takes seconds. As the phone rings, I recline in my truck with my gaze fixed on the people hurrying to and from the stores lining the outdoor mall.

It rings.

And rings.

And rings.

The longer my call goes unanswered, the heavier my frown, until a man clutching a grocery bag seems to feel the intensity of my glower, glances over at me, pales, and walks even faster.

I shift my focus to a craft store entrance before the man gets himself run over trying to avoid my glare.

Has Sierra already forgotten me? I mean, it’s been a few hours, but seriously?

The phone clicks. My brow smooths as I sit up and part my lips.

“You’ve reached the voicemail for—”

Snarling, I hang up before the machine recording can finish intoning its message.

I’m getting ready to toss the phone on the seat beside me when I hesitate.

Should I call again?

I have a flashback to Sierra on the porch steps, with Gavin sitting far closer to her than the shifter needed to be.

They were laughing before Sierra noticed I was watching.

Is that why she’s not answering? Has Gavin decided to pay a visit to her cabin?

I’m dialing before I’m even conscious of it, and as I wait, phone pressed hard against my ear and my wolf snarling at me to go back and kill Gavin, the phone rings out.

Again.

Is she ignoring me?

Maybe I should go back.

I’ve never felt as torn as I do now: Sierra or the pack.

My pack needs me… but so does Sierra.

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