SLOANE
I was halfway to campus when the scent hit me. It came through my open window and my whole body seized up — not gradually, not as a warning, just all at once, like someone had punched straight through my chest and grabbed whatever was sitting behind my ribs.
Sweet, desperate and wrong because this shouldn't be happening, not for three more weeks.
Omega in heat, his heat.
My Bryce.
My foot slammed the gas before I'd even processed the thought, before I could ask myself what I was doing, before I could remind myself of every reason showing up was a terrible idea. The car lurched forward. Someone honked as I swerved around them. I didn't hear it, couldn't hear anything past the roaring that had swallowed everything else, the single word my wolf had collapsed into.
Go.
