Chapter 42. The Stop Word

Wade POV

There's no way to explain what it's like inside the wolf when it's that close to the surface.

The closest I can get is this. Imagine you're standing at the bottom of a deep, dark well, and far, far above you is a little circle of daylight. That's you. The man. And the walls of the well are moving, rising, the water coming up around your chest, your throat, and every instinct you have is screaming to stop fighting and let it close over your head.

That's where I was.

The man under my hand smelled like sagebrush and cattle dip and the inside of her bedroom. He'd sat outside the Spur and watched her laugh. He'd asked a twelve-year-old where she slept. He'd put his hand on her arm, right where her father's bruise had been, and dragged.

The wolf knew exactly what to do about that.