The car moved in a tensed silence, its tires humming against the asphalt as the night swallowed them. Freya sat rigid in the back seat, pressed into the leather, the silver cuffs on her wrists biting into her skin. Every pulse of pain reminded her that she was trapped, and her wolf was in shackles, silenced.

Logan sat beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. His presence was suffocating, his aura heavy with restrained rage. He hadn’t spoken since forcing ...