The wheels of the black SUV crunched over gravel as the convoy pulled through the iron gates of the pack house. The air was heavy with pine and rain, the scent of home for some, a cage for others. Inside the rear vehicle, McKenna leaned against the window, her skin still pale from her stay in the hospital. Her chest rose in slow, measured breaths, but her wolf hummed with restless energy beneath the surface.
Beside her, McKayla shifted uncomfortably, the hospital’s sterile scent still clinging to her clothes. She hated the way the nurses had looked at her — with awe, with fear — as though she were something fragile and dangerous all at once. The transfer had been quick, orchestrated with a precision that made it clear: they weren’t safe in human territory anymore.
“Home,” McKenna whisper
