CHAPTER NINETEEN
The city lights blur into streaks of color as we speed down the highway, leaving the jubilee's revelry in the dust. Logan's motorcycle hums beneath me, a fierce heartbeat against the quiet night. I hold on to him, my hands gripping his waist, feeling the solidness of his body. He's always been there, as steady as the earth beneath my feet.
We pull up to the pack house, an imposing structure hidden in plain sight amongst the towering buildings of the city. The rest of the Ironfur pack trails behind us, their engines cutting through the silence. Henry is with them, riding in the backseat of a car, his human senses unable to keep pace with our heightened werewolf ones.
"Home sweet home," Logan calls over his shoulder, his voice warm with familiarity. We dismount, and I can
