“Let me go!” Freya’s voice cracked as she struggled, twisting her wrist in Logan’s iron grip. Her nails scraped at his hand, but his hold was unyielding, carved from the strength of years as an Alpha.

Her pulse hammered in her throat. Panic spread like wildfire under her skin. She had known this day would come—that someone from Northridge would find her—but she had prayed for more time, for Daniel’s sake. For her sake.

“Did you really think,” Logan’s voice was low, lethal, ...