The air at the border was thick with the scent of damp pine and the sharp, metallic tang of the coming dawn. When we mounted our horses, the sun was still a bruised purple smudge beneath the horizon, not ready to witness the hypocrisy of the day.
We rode in a silence that was louder than any conversation. Through the bond, I could feel Elias's mind churning, a whirlwind of logistics, protocols, and a cold, simmering hatred that he kept locked behind his practiced "Alpha" mask.
My own internal landscape was far less organized. The Beast was pacing, its claws scraping against my ribs. It didn't like the border. It didn't like the encroaching scent of strange wolves. And most of all, it didn't like the man we were here to meet.
We didn't have to wait long.
