POV: Daniel

Daniel had known she was doing it the second her fingers grazed the duffel.

The tether flared hot in his chest, and he fed on every frantic scrape of her mind. Panic. Desperation. The sound of zippers grinding, drawers pulled too hard, bottles shoved into plastic bags.

She was packing. Running.

His throat worked with a growl and his body tensed, low and animal in the cab of his truck. The steering wheel creaked at the strain of his claws, leather ...