Ash's POV
The packhouse was suffocating. Walls closing in, air too thick to breathe. Every second that passed was another second Opal was out there—alone, hunted, freezing. Maybe worse.
Ash couldn't stand it. It was suffocating him. He needed to know where she was. To save her.
He paced like a caged beast, muscles coiled, fists so tight his nails dug into his palms. His wolf clawed beneath his skin, demanding to be unleashed. He needed to move. Needed to do something.
Forrest perched on the edge of the couch, his usual smirk nowhere to be found, his leg bouncing with barely contained tension. No jokes or teasing remarks escaped his lips. Ridge stood like a sentinel, arms crossed, amber eyes locked on Ash as if waiting for him to snap. Brooks kept his hands busy, checking weapons, going through gear, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.
They were all on edge.
All barely holding it together.
Then he walked in.
Kael.
Ash's fury ignited like gasoline on an open flame.
