I don’t stay. Not in towns, not with people, not anywhere long enough for the past to catch up.
Three years on the run taught me that wanting things is how they get taken from you. So I keep my bag packed, my name fake, and my heart behind a wall no one’s getting through.
Then I poured a beer for a green-eyed biker who won’t stop grinning at me like he knows a secret.
He’s loud where I’m silent. Warm where I’m ice. And under one reckless full moon, the thing I swore I’d never have again locks itself around both of us — permanent, unbreakable, terrifying.
Now I can’t leave. Now the men who destroyed my pack have found me. And the only wolf standing between me and the cage is the one I never meant to want.
How do you run from forever?
