She’d laughed it off. She’d blamed dehydration, a fall, a concussion. But the scar on her collarbone wasn’t a fall. It was a bite. And the dreams weren’t dreams. They were other lives .
She was saving that for the moment she finally understood what the pack had always known: that the wild does not take you. It remembers you. And June Hervas had been away from home for far too long. june hervas pack
Come.
It wasn’t a howl that woke her. It was the absence of one. She’d laughed it off
The black female—the beta—stepped forward. She pressed her nose to June’s scarred collarbone. The heat there flared, then cooled. And June felt something unlock in her chest. Not a cage door. A door she’d built herself, brick by brick, since the night she’d woken up in the ranger station. It was a bite
And then she saw them.
June understood. This was not a threat. This was an invitation.