Chapter 61
Tristan POV
I hate that wolf. The way he hovers near Nathaniel like he belongs there. Like Nate is his to protect, to tease, to touch. It makes something ugly twist in my chest. Envy, I realize. Jealousy, pure and bitter. And it doesn't help that every time I look at Nate, he seems to shine a little brighter in that wolf's presence.
I bite down the growl clawing its way up my throat and focus on the task in front of me.
Massive trucks rumble into the northern clearing just outside the reserve gates, each one packed with the cargo we've been preparing for months. The fifth day of the annual gathering has arrived—the day of the ceremonial hunt. It's one of the oldest traditions in werewolf culture. We bring prey animals into the land so that by nightfall, every wolf present, from alpha to pup, can run and remember what it means to chase.
