Page 9 of Griffin

The thing was nearly dead too. I should’ve brought a book or something to pass the time.

But instead, here I was, phone on life support, stuck in a sea of strangers, waiting for my turn to try out a new game.

An hour later, I finally stepped out of the convention hall, feeling a wave of relief as the cool evening air hit my face.

My muscles ached from standing around all day, and it felt damn good to stretch my legs.

The crowds, the noise, the excitement—it had all been fun, but I needed a break.

My stomach grumbled loudly, reminding me that it was well past time for dinner.

I remembered a nearby diner that stayed open until midnight, perfect for a late meal.

Cutting through the park seemed like the fastest route, and the quiet of the night was a welcome contrast to the bustling convention center.

I could already imagine the greasy cheeseburger and fries waiting for me. But then, something—or rather someone—caught my attention.

A figure sprinted past me.

At first, I didn’t think much of it—people jogged through parks all the time—but my nose picked up the rancid smell of fear.

And underneath that fear was something else… a scent that made my wolf stir, intrigued.

It was subtle, almost hidden beneath the panic, but familiar. Michael?

I stopped, my brow furrowing. It was him. His face had been pale and terrified as he darted by.

What the hell was Michael doing, jogging through the park at this hour? More importantly, why did he look so scared?

Before I could even process it, another person brushed past me, this one wearing all black—baggy sweatpants, sweatshirt, and a hoodie pulled up, obscuring his face.

The overwhelming stench of cheap cologne hit me like a wall, nearly making me gag.

The guy moved with purpose, and as he passed, my instincts flared. Something was wrong.

A normal person might have just let it go, minding their own business.

But Dad had always taught me that when someone’s in trouble, you don’t just stand by. You act.

He drilled that sense of justice into Noah and me from a young age, and it was second nature to me now. I couldn’t just ignore this.

My instincts screamed that Michael was in danger.

And my instincts were never wrong. I took off after them, cursing myself for not reacting faster.

“Hey!” I called out.

Overthinking the situation had given Michael’s pursuer a head start, and they were already disappearing into the park’s winding paths.

I pushed myself harder, my wolf stirring beneath my skin as I tracked the scent of that damn cologne.

It was so strong, so pungent, it practically left a trail in the air.

I followed it, using the sharpness of my senses to guide me through the darkening park.

I emerged from the trees and into a quieter, more secluded part of the park, near a bar’s back alley.

The streetlamps cast long shadows, and there, pressed against a brick wall in a dead-end alley, was Michael.

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