With a growl, I flung myself away from Colt and transformed back. Fortunately, the transformation was swift; Colt had barely managed to sit up before I was panting as a wolf again, my livid gaze on him. He gazed back with fear and pain—the likes of which I’d felt in myself—which I almost regretted before whipping around and running.

I should have killed him.

As I fled across the buffer and back into Grandbay, howling for Oslo to reconvene at the pack house, my anger began to clear. In ...