Logan's POV
The wolf charges.
I barely have time to breathe before it's on me, red fur a blur, teeth snapping like knives. I throw myself to the side, rolling across the sand. My palms scrape rough ground beneath it. My heart is hammering so hard it feels like it's rattling my ribs.
I scramble back to my feet, chest heaving. The spirits are howling and cheering all around, voices crashing like a storm. They want me to fight. They're calling for blood, screaming at me to soak the ground with it. If I won't, the wolf will kill me.
The wolf snarls again, eyes like blazing embers pressed into its massive skull. It circles me with its hackles raised and tail stiff.
I immediately reach for Fenrir and instantly find that I can't shift. I try— Goddess, I try. I search for him within me, clawing at the tether that binds us, begging him to come forward. Nothing happens. My insides are hollow, a locked door slamming in my face.
Panic bites me harder than any set of fangs could.
