Then Chloe was discharged from the Pack Infirmary, and she came tapping at my door, chirping like a finch that had never known a cage.
"Big sister, my mate has a pack race today. Come with us! I know you're heartbroken about Alaric's passing, but locking yourself inside like this will only make you sick."
The two Nightfang brothers had always drawn every eye in the territory.
Alaric was cold, controlled, the ruling Alpha of the Nightfang Pack. Caelan was wild and untethered, the only wolf in the world to compete on the continental storm-circuit as a pack scout racer. Opposite temperaments, opposite lives.
I didn't want to go. But then a thought turned over in my mind: I wanted to see how a wolf who had never once raced would keep up the act. So I followed them to the track.
Once we arrived, Chloe went straight to find Alaric. I was left behind, drifting through the crowd with no direction.
From somewhere nearby came voices, low and sharp, pressed down to keep from carrying.
"Have you lost your mind? You tampered with the brakes just to stay near Chloe? Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
The name stopped me mid-step.