The night air stung my lungs as I tried hard to remember the path to the Moonbeam Pack. Running away from an enemy while not knowing your path is more dangerous than outright facing your enemy in a fight.

I hope my savior has contained him within his grip. Or killed him.

I paused for a heartbeat, each step a struggle against the sharp pain radiating from my wounds. I almost forget about the pain that the thorns that shredded my clothes and skin has lingered, my broken back was still aching.

“Fuck,” I uttered, my breath came in ragged gasps, the rusty scent of my blood might have attracted...