Pauline's POV
The salt spray from the choppy waters couldn't wash away the lingering scent of Logan that clung to my clothes. I desperately needed a hot shower to scrub away every trace of last night. I had fled his place before dawn, too terrified that any small noise might wake him and force another confrontation I wasn't ready for.
Only one more stop before we reached Alonzo. The morning sun painted golden streaks across the restless ocean, but even its warmth couldn't ease the tension coiled in my shoulders.
This ferry was rougher than I remembered, crammed with an eclectic mix of passengers. Merchants clutched their wares protectively while night shift workers dozed against their seats. But what made my skin crawl were the others, the ones who clearly didn't belong to our werewolf world.
We were in Valoria waters now, but our route demanded passage through two notorious islands, each governed by their own deadly rules.
First came Christopher.
