Naida slammed the door of the old truck and stalked toward the hidden cabin, her boots crunching on gravel. The moon still hung heavy in the sky, mocking her. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Not from fear—from rage. And something hotter, deeper, that made her want to scream.
The mate bond. That bastard’s voice in her head. Mate.
She shoved the thought away like a knife in the dirt.
The cabin sat tucked deep in the woods, shielded by wards and illusions her father had paid a witch for years ago. No werewolf had ever found it. Until tonight, she’d believed no one ever would.
“Naida!” Her father’s voice boomed from inside before she even reached the porch. “Get in here.”
She pushed open the heavy door. The familiar smell of gun oil, dried herbs, and old blood hit her. Her father, Elias
