Wolves are always more active at night, and even though it was almost midnight, the streets were still packed.
I sat in the backseat, glaring at my phone, completely silent.
A black car that looked kind of familiar drove past.
"That’s Oliver again," John muttered, puzzled. "That’s the second time I’ve seen him today."
He was in the passenger seat, hadn’t heard a word from me, and didn’t seem too bothered.
John frowned. “We never used to run into Oliver this often…”
I didn’t bother replying. There were more important things on my mind.
My phone was dead silent, like it had given up on life.
Maybe it was my mood leaking out—John glanced back with a worried look.
"Alpha Jackson, still nothing from Ella?"
I frowned, frustration clearly written all over my face.
