ROWAN
I was driving through the empty winding road leading to Ironcrest pack territory, my hands gripping the leather steering wheel perhaps tighter than strictly necessary, my knuckles white with tension I could not quite release.
The sun was starting to settle down warmly through the dense trees lining both sides of the narrow road.
This was when I noticed that Ryker was completely silent beside me in the passenger seat.
This was highly unusual for him. Ryker was never quiet like this, always had something sarcastic or dark or inappropriate to say, always filling any silence with his particular brand of commentary that walked the line between humor and cruelty.
But now he just sat there staring out the window, his jaw clenched tight, his body radiating tension.
