Zane's POV
I didn't remember the last time I'd slept in a bed because beds were for people and I wasn't one anymore.
I was something else, maybe even broken. I couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop searching, couldn't stop hunting for a ghost.
It's been four f*****g years since the fire, since I lost her and everything else.
My wolf was always close to the surface now. He had been for months, maybe longer I didn't know because time didn't mean much anymore.
As days turned to weeks, I would sometimes look up and before I knew it, a month was gone and I couldn't remember any of it because it was filled with endless searching.
I could feel my wolf there, pushing against my skin, demanding control and the fact that we had to keep searching.
We were in sync now, both of us feral and broken
