We’ve spent our whole lives clinging to the edges of other people’s territory, sleeping in abandoned buildings that smelled like mold and piss, or curling up in forest clearings pretending the cold didn’t sting.
We begged packs to take us in, and every time, we got the same look.
Three orphans. Male. Unmated. Too risky.
Some people would call that a compliment.
If three half-starved strays are a threat, maybe that means we’re stronger than we think.
But it never felt like that. Not to us.
To us, every rejection was a neon sign screamingnot good enough.
At some point, Buff and Froggy started coping with humor and sex. I coped by pretending I didn’t give a shit. None of us are winning.
A shot cracks through the air.
Bark explodes beside my face, shards of wood slicing past my cheek. Another bullet screams past Froggy’s ear, close enough to stir his fur.
That metallic sting hits my tongue a second later, cold, sharp, unmistakable.
Silver.
My stomach drops. Not good. Not remotely fucking good.
The Eustace pack doesn’t fight clean. They never have. They’re so drunk on their own dominance they think rules are for weaker wolves.
They’ve got more arrogance than brain cells, and believe fear and brute force are the only currencies that matter. And they spend both like they’ll never run out.
Froggy stumbles and snarls, his paws skidding in the dirt. Buff yelps as another bullet slices past his flank, close enough to burn the air around him.
The woods thin. Branches whip away as we burst out of the trees, and suddenly there’s nothing.
A deep, wide ravine stretches below us. It’s big enough to swallow a Boeing 747. Fog drifts like death phantoms through the gap, highlighted by the moonlight—soft, beautiful, but deadly at the same time.
Buff skids so hard mud spits up like bullets.“Ah, J… Jason, man. Tell me you’ve got a plan.”
I measure the distance. My wolf does the math.“I do. Try really damn hard not to die.”
I back up, lungs burning, paws digging furrows into the mud, then I launch myself forward. My legs feel like they’re churning through lava, every muscle screaming, my heart wedged so high in my throat I can taste the panic.
And then I leap.
For one impossible heartbeat, there’s nothing but empty air under me, and wind tearing through my fur.
Weightlessness.
Freedom.
It’s terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
I crash onto the opposite bank and let out a howl that rips raw from my lungs.
Froggy’s voice cracks behind me.“You’re insane!”
“That happens when you’re out of options!”I bark back, lungs burning.“Now move!”
Behind us, snarls rip through the air, low, furious, too close. Angry shouts follow, overlapping like a hunting chorus.
