Jason Blackwood moved through the darkness in absolute silence, his massive frame barely visible against the shadows. Every muscle was coiled, every sense straining.

The rival pack's patrol had led him here. Their scent was fresh. But underneath it, buried beneath years of rot and despair, was something else.

Her.

His wolf surged, clawing at the inside of his chest, but Jason forced it down. He couldn't afford to lose control. Not yet.

The corridor stretched into blackness, lined with iron doors. Most were empty. Some weren't. He didn't stop to check. He could only follow that thread of scent, so faint he might have imagined it.

The last door at the end of the hall was heavier than the others. Reinforced. Locked from the outside.

Jason didn't hesitate. His hand closed around the bar and wrenched it free with a shriek of torn metal.

The door swung open.

Inside, a single weak bulb flickered overhead. And in the corner, half-hidden behind a pile of soiled blankets, was a figure.

Thin. Trembling. Curled into a defensive ball with bare, bruised arms wrapped around bent knees.

The smell of her hit him like a physical blow.

Mate.