Returning to the pack feels weird.
Worse than weird.
Icky.
Yeah, icky is a good word for it.
I stare out the window as Andrew pulls into a large, semi-circular driveway toward the edge of town. My stomach knots tighter with each rotation of the tires, like my body is physically rejecting the idea of being back on Blue Mountain territory.
The last time I was here, I was running away. Now it kind of feels like I'm crawling back with my tail between my legs—except I don't have a tail because I'm human, which is exactly the problem in the first place.
Caine's already backed the RV beside a small home with boarded-up windows. The fading light catches on the dusty greenhouse attached to the main building, its glass panels shattered in places, jagged teeth ready to bite anyone who ventures too close.
"What's the name of this place again?"
"Miller's Flowers." Andrew's voice is flat as he parks. "It's been empty since Eliza Miller moved to a different pack."
