“Una’s scent is stale. She didn’t go home last night.” I snarl. My incisors descend, pricking my lip. “Son of a bitch.” I suck the cut. I didn’t see it coming. That’s not possible. My wolf and I are one. We act as one. I’ve already got hair sprouted all up my back and my vision’s going dichromatic. I fight the shift. I’m not going to track Una Hayes and get people’s jaws flapping again. That’s not happening. She can go hide in the woods and nurse her wounds if she wants. It doesn’t bother me. It shouldn’t.
