Three’s a Pack, Two’s a Crowd

The scent of pine, rain, and absolute, nauseating codependency filled the forest. Roxy sat on a mossy log, nursing a thermos of lukewarm coffee, watching her two best friends since kindergarten—Jax and Chloe—celebrate their eighteenth birthday. In the werewolf world, turning eighteen meant your sense of smell dialed up to an eleven, your inner wolf finally woke up, and you were hit with the cosmic zoning permit known as the "fated mate bond.", if you were lucky. Roxy had anticipated a lot of things about this night. She had anticipated running through the woods. She had anticipated howling. She had not anticipated being trapped in a supernatural episode of The Bachelor.