CAINE
The truck's tires skid through mud as I slam to a halt beside the camper. I don't bother turning it off—just fling the door open and launch myself into the rain.
Every heartbeat is louder than the last, drumming insistently through my veins as I wrench the camper door open. The entire thing rocks as I storm inside, halting only when I see three kids standing in front of me, eyes wide and smelling of fresh panic.
I scared them.
Idiot, Fenris mutters, like he wasn't the one to send me the get back here as fast as you can message less than ten minutes ago.
Ron, shirtless and bleeding, stares blankly as he holds a towel to one of his wounds.
"What happened?" The question rips from my throat even though I already know. Fenris told me—Bun lost control. Granted, the worthless lump of fur and fang was short on detail and ignored me when I demanded more, saying he was a too busy to explain.
Ron immediately stiffens, shoving the bloody cloth behind his back. "Nothing."
