Xander stood in the shadows just outside the gymnasium, heart pounding with nervous anticipation.
He had flown in secretly that afternoon, determined to surprise Claire at prom despite the strain between them. He wanted to show her he was willing to fight for them. He wore a black tuxedo, the silver wolf cufflinks she had given him glinting under the fairy lights. A single white rose was in his hand — her favorite.
He had been about to walk inside when the mate bond suddenly exploded with terror.
Claire.
Her fear slammed into him like a freight train — raw, suffocating panic. Through their strengthened bond, he felt the ropes cutting into her wrists, the duct tape over her mouth, the cold concrete beneath her. And then a clear image: an abandoned warehouse, broken windows, rusting mach
