At night, the air smelled like blades piercing my skin. I was unconcerned. I had to take a breath.

The cabin was too tiny, too quiet, and too laden with Matilda's aroma. I lingered for a minute because I should drown in it.

I went outside as a result.

Thick enough to conceal the tents but not the murmurs, the fog rolled low over the camp. The outlaws were uncomfortable. They believed that I was unaware of the Alpha who bled under a moon and that I might no longer be a suitable ...