The Howlcrest Werewolves Legacy

Damn him.

I buried my face in the collar for a split second before cursing myself.

It wasn’t because I wanted to—I needed it.

It was cold, that’s all.

Just practical.

Just practical.

I shoved my arms through the sleeves, and the jacket hung off me, too big but warm—too warm.

And then, before I could second-guess myself, I climbed back onto the sink, swung a leg through the window, and jumped.

The world tilted for half a second—air rushing past me—before I landed hard, knees buckling but holding.

Yes.

I survived.