Thirteen

The days drifted by in a quiet, relentless rhythm as Raz drove from one territory to the next. For nearly two days at a time, they would travel through empty stretches of forest and winding roads, stopping only to refuel or for Raz to complete exchanges at allied packs. Yasmin stayed hidden during these stops, watching from the shadows as Raz oversaw the quiet transfers of crates and supplies. Each mile felt like another piece of her old life crumbling away, though a gnawing uncertainty still haunted her.

At first, Raz had insisted she stay out of sight in the trunk, but as they ventured farther from Moonbeam Pack, he gestured for her to move to the back seat. She’d hesitated, almost surprised by the kindness of the offer, but the chance to sit upright in the warmth of the seat was too tempting to refuse. Now, Yasmin sat in the back while Raz drove, his silence a steady, familiar presence beside her.

Throughout the days, he would share food without a word, passing her hunks of cheese