Page 74 of Griffin

Griffin

The bad feeling in my gut intensified as I exited the hospital. The crisp evening air did nothing to clear the tension coiled in my chest.

My phone vibrated again in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw Colton’s name on the screen.

Colton was a pack member and also my neighbor. I hesitated. Should I let it go to voicemail?

Maybe it was just pack business that could wait. But something nagged at me. What if it wasn’t?

I swiped to answer. “Colton, what’s up?”

“Hey, Griffin,” he said, his voice cautious. “I thought you should know—I was out for a walk and saw Michael letting someone into your house. He looked… uneasy. Like he didn’t really want them there.”

My stomach dropped. “What did he look like?”

Colton hesitated, then said, “Tall, lean build, dark hair. Kind of smug-looking. He looked like an outsider.”

A chill crawled down my spine. Todd.

“Thanks for letting me know,” I said tightly.

“Do you need backup?” Colton asked, concern lacing his tone.

“I’ll call if I do,” I replied.

I hung up, my heart thundering in my chest.

That bastard was in my house—with Michael. My wolf stirred restlessly, rage building as his instincts surged forward.

Without hesitation, I climbed into my truck.

Instead of taking the familiar road through town, I veered onto the rugged backroads that cut through the woods.

The narrow, tree-lined path was barely visible in the fading light, but I didn’t care.

Every muscle in my body was taut, adrenaline rushing through me. My wolf clawed at my skin, desperate to break free.

When I finally reached my house, the sight of the open front door made my blood run cold. Michael never left the door open. Ever.

I stepped out of the truck, quiet as a predator on the hunt. My senses sharpened, ears attuned to every sound, every whisper of movement.

I crept inside, my boots barely making a sound on the hardwood floor.

The house was eerily silent except for faint voices coming from the backyard.

“I don’t understand, Todd,” Michael’s voice carried, panic evident in his tone. “What aren’t you telling me? Let me go!”

The raw fear in his voice shattered my restraint. I moved toward the sound, slipping through the open back door.

There they were.

Todd had a firm grip on Michael’s arm, his face twisted into something dark and unrecognizable. Michael’s eyes darted toward me, wide with relief.

But it wasn’t just Todd’s grip that caught my attention—it was the scent of blood.

My gaze dropped, landing on a splash of red against Michael’s pale skin. The growl that tore from my throat was low, guttural, and full of warning.

Todd’s head snapped toward me, his expression souring.

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