Page 8 of Knot What I Expected

Like something was coming, and every instinct I possessed knew it, even if I didn’t have a goddamn clue what it was.

I hated that feeling.

I rolled my shoulders and tried to shake it off.

Enough.

The fire was contained. The hot spots were handled. Now it was time to pack our gear, get back to the cabins, and get the fuck off this mountain before I started inventing problems where there weren’t any.

I headed toward the trucks, boots grinding through blackened earth and wet ash. Smoke still hung low between the trees, carrying the bitter scent of scorched pine, burned fabric, and the remains of those assholes’ campfire.

Behind me, hoses dragged over the ground as we started breaking everything down.

Work.

Good.

I understood work.

Work gave my hands something to do and my Wolf something else to focus on.

Or it usually did.

Because just when I thought the furry bastard had finally checked out for the night, claws scraped slowly down the inside of my consciousness.

I stopped walking.

There you are.

The Wolf paced once.

Restless.

Agitated.

Searching.

“For what?” I muttered.

Nothing.

Just another scrape of claws.

A low vibration rolled through my chest.

Fuck.

And then, because apparently I enjoyed torturing myself, my mind went straight to her.

Gabriella Santos.

Gabby.

And fuck me.

Just thinking her name did something strange to my chest.

Felt like a goddamn lightning bolt striking.