Page 52 of Who Let The Wolves Out?

Mira nods once. Tiny. Resolute.

“Okay.”

The three of us push back through the woods, me half-carrying Mira, Jason flanking us like a silent shadow.

By the time we reach the edge of camp, the rain is a full-on deluge, soaking through my jacket, Mira’s curls, even Jason’s thick fur.

Julie and Torack are at the edge of the mess hall porch, headlamps flashing, ponchos flapping in the wind. A cluster of staff huddles around them, maps in hand, shovels ready.

Julie spots us first.

“Oh mygod!”

She runs to us, ripping off her hood. “You found her!”

“She’s okay,” I say, handing Mira over into her arms. “Just scared. Twisted ankle, maybe.”

Torack steps up, gaze shifting from Mira to me to the wolf at my side.

And for a moment, nobody says anything.

Then Jason lets out a low, tired huff and steps back into the trees.

Disappearing before anyone else can get a closer look.

Julie squeezes my arm. “You good?”

I nod.

Even though my whole world just cracked wide open.

And I’m not sure it’ll ever fit back together the same way again.

CHAPTER 18

JASON

Sunrise stabs through my eyelids. I blink awake to moss pressing into my cheek and pine needles poking my bare ass. Again. My mouth tastes like wet dog and bad decisions.

"Naked in the woods. Classic Tuesday."

The cold air raises goosebumps as I dig through my emergency clothes cache—a hollow log stocked with sweatpants and a Camp Lightring hoodie that smells like laundry gone feral. My joints pop like bubble wrap when I stand. Transformation hangovers hit harder than tequila nights.

Memories crash through the fog—Mira's shivering form in the tree, Alice's flashlight beam trembling as she stood her ground against a monster. Againstme. I’m sprinting toward staff housing before the second shoe drops.

Alice’s cabin door flies open before I can knock. She’s cross-armed in Hello Kitty pajamas, hair mashed flat on one side. The smell of instant cocoa hangs thick behind her.

"You look like a Yeti that lost a bar fight."

"Good morning to you too, Sunshine." I peer past her shoulder. "Mira’s?—?"

"Julie’s got her wrapped in like twelve blankets by the fire. Kid’s already demanding extra pudding cups as 'trauma tax.'"

The vice around my ribs loosens. "And you? Last night was..."

"Insane? Soul-shredding?" She leans against the door frame, cocking her head. "Let’s go with ‘educational.’ Turns out werewolf transformation videos on YouTube? Not HD enough."

I scratch my stubble. "Bet the comments section didn’t mention the drool."

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