The storm swallowed Aaron whole.
Rain lashed his face as he stumbled through the trees, shoes slipping in mud, lungs burning. Branches clawed at his arms, tearing skin already bruised and yellowed from older injuries. He didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Every crack of thunder sounded like pursuit.
He didn’t know where he was going.
He just ran. Away.
A howl suddenly cut through the storm.
Aaron froze.
It wasn’t distant. It wasn’t wild in the way wolves on documentaries sounded. This was close. Controlled. Intelligent.
And most frighteningly. Predatory.
His heart slammed violently against his ribs as shapes moved between the trees—too fast, too quiet. Yellow eyes gleamed in the dark. One. Then another. And another.
Then four and five. And finally, the biggest and tallest made an appearance.
