Echoes on the Cliff's Edge

VANESSA

"This way," I whispered, my voice hardly audible even to my own ears. The scent pulled me forward like an invisible thread, tugging at something deep and primal within me.

Roman followed without question, his footsteps nearly silent behind mine. Trust radiated from him—complete and unwavering. It should have frightened me how easily I'd come to rely on that trust, how quickly we'd fallen back into sync despite everything between us.

The forest grew denser as we moved deeper into the wilderness, moonlight filtering through the pine needles in silver slivers. My wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin, pushing me faster, more urgently toward that haunting, impossible scent.

"What is it?" Roman finally asked, his voice low. "What do you smell?"

I shook my head, unable to put it into words. How could I explain a scent that belonged to memories I'd struggled for years to forget? Memories of fear and helplessness. Of betrayal.