Mark’s POV

The door ripped open before I was ready.

The cold slammed into me like a steel fist, sharp and sentient. It was not just air. It was something old. Something wrong. I barely had time to throw up my arm before it hit.

Wind, no force, tossed me backward. My spine cracked against the far wall. Mid shift, my bones screamed in protest. Fur bristled along my arms, jaw half extended, fangs jutting from my mouth. Not wolf. Not man. Stuck in between.

I tasted blood. My own.

Rissa was ...