Thora's POV:

But right now, the only thing that mattered was staying alive.

This new body was in worse shape than I thought.

My left leg was broken, my head spun from a concussion, and I was covered in bruises and torn muscles.

If only my wolf spirit, Amie, had been reborn with me. With her strength, I could have healed faster.

I tried to reach out through the mind-link. "Amie?"

Silence. Nothing answered.

I couldn't feel her power at all.

I closed my eyes and focused inward.

Deep inside me, I found the soulstone that belonged to the original Thora.

Every werewolf was born with one, but unless their wolf spirit awakened, the stone stayed dull and lifeless.

Mine looked like nothing more than a gray rock.

A heavy wave of disappointment hit me.

I opened my eyes again. This time, I fixed my gaze on two branches lying nearby. I tried to use the telekinesis I'd once awakened during the apocalypse. If my gift had come with me, maybe I'd still have a shot.

But the branches didn't budge.

So it was true. Amie hadn't been reborn. My powers had died along with the soulstone's explosion.

All I had left was myself.

Grinding my teeth against the pain, I grabbed a stick and splinted my broken leg as best I could.

The rest of my wounds had already crusted over in the cold night air. I tore my clothes into strips and wrapped the worst cuts.

Too much blood had already been lost. The world spun every few seconds.

I needed real medical help soon, or I wouldn't last.

That's when I heard it. Engines. Several of them. Roaring and tearing through the night like thunder.

Racing.

Perfect. If I wanted a way out of here, I needed one of those cars.

I leaned on a thick branch as a crutch and limped out of the trees.

From where I stood, I saw the mountain road below. Sleek rally cars shot past one after another, headlights cutting through the dark.

I listened carefully. Judging by the sound, one car would reach my spot in about 10 seconds.

I drew in a sharp breath, pushed through the stabbing pain in my leg, and forced myself into the middle of the road.

I spread my arms wide.

At once, blinding headlights locked onto me. A black rally car screamed down the asphalt like a beast set loose. The engine was howling as if it wanted to tear the world apart.

Then it hit me—not the car, but something even heavier. An Alpha's scent. It slammed into me like a tidal wave, invisible but crushing.

Even after surviving countless life-and-death battles during the apocalypse, my body instinctively stiffened under that crushing pressure.

Whoever was behind that wheel wasn't just any werewolf. That presence was pure dominance.

But there was no backing down now.

I fought the urge to dodge, threw my arms wide open, and stood firm in the middle of the road.

Beeeep!

The sharp blare of the horn cut through the night like lightning.

150 feet!

60 feet!

30 feet!

3 feet!

Just as that speeding race car, heavy with Alpha pressure, was about to slam into me, I felt the soulstone inside my body stir—releasing a familiar wave of energy.

Darius's POV:

It was heat season again.

No matter how much serum I injected, it barely helped. My blood still burned.

So I took my car to the mountain roads, hoping the rush of speed would quiet the fire raging through me.

Normally, I'd have led the race with ease. But not tonight.

My wolf spirit, Lorcan, kept thrashing inside my mind, clawing at my nerves.

Every sharp turn I needed to take came a split second too late, making me sluggish.

And before I knew it, I was in last place.

And the loser of this race? Had to run around the mountain completely naked.

If word got out that the Alpha of the Nightclaw Pack had run naked in public, I'd lose every shred of respect I had.

"You want this to stop? Then find our fated mate!"

Lorcan roared inside my head.

"Fuck, do you think I don't want to?!" I shouted back.

As an Alpha who had awakened an ancient wolf spirit, my heat season came once a year after I reached adulthood—burning hotter and hitting harder than any other werewolf's.

No one wanted to find their fated mate more than I did. Only she could calm the madness that burned through my blood every season.

But no matter how many years passed, I still hadn't found her.

The grand priest once predicted that my fated mate lived a thousand years in the future.

A thousand years, my foot!

Werewolves live barely 300 years! I'm not some immortal freak!

Grinding my teeth, I shut Lorcan out and focused on the road. I slammed on the gas, chasing the cars ahead.

Then, as I rounded a sharp curve—I froze. A person was standing less than 300 feet in the middle of the road.

My breath caught. I slammed the horn again and again, warning her to move.

But she didn't. She just stood there—still as a statue.

Is she trying to get herself killed?!

The car roared forward, the distance closing fast. Just 150 feet away!

"Damn it!"

If I didn't stop, I'd hit her for sure.

Acting on instinct, I slammed the secret control switch to reverse the car's energy output.

The tires screamed, the sound slicing through my ears. The force nearly threw me out of the seat.

Finally, the car screeched to a halt. Only 2 feet away from her.

"Fuck!" I cursed, slamming my fist against the wheel.

Between the burning madness of my heat season and the fury boiling inside me, I was seconds from losing my mind.

I shoved open the door in rage and stormed toward the figure, ready to tear into whoever had dared block my path.

But the moment I got close to that slender figure, Lorcan's voice exploded in my mind with a deafening roar!

"Mate! I can smell our fated mate!"