An Unwelcome Reunion

BIANCA

The motel room smelled of cigarettes and desperation. I'd arrived twenty minutes early, scoping out every possible escape route before settling into the threadbare armchair facing the door.

Room 114. Just as instructed in the cryptic message delivered to our latest safehouse.

My wolf stirred beneath my skin, anxious and alert. Whoever had tracked us down had resources. Connections. Power. The kind that could either save our faction or destroy us completely.

I checked my watch again. Two minutes until the scheduled meeting time. My fingers twitched toward the knife hidden in my boot, then relaxed. No point showing my hand too early.

The rain pounded against the window, a steady rhythm matching my heartbeat. I'd chosen this rundown place on the edge of neutral territory precisely because no respectable pack wolf would be caught dead here. Perfect for a clandestine meeting with someone offering mysterious "support."

A key scraped in the lock.