Phantom Hollow [m] You know it's not the same as it was

Hunst jolted awake the moment he sensed her absence, his skin prickling with the cold emptiness she left behind. He reached for her, but only met the cold, unyielding ground, and a sharp twist of unease. Her scent lingered faintly, and in an instant, he was up, muscles tense, eyes narrowing into the dark, listening.

Then he heard her cry.

He surged forward, paws crashing through the night as his heart raced in sync with each stride. Every part of him screamed to reach her. He could feel it now—the foreign presence, prickling against his instincts. They were not alone, and every ounce of his body felt ready to tear through anything that threatened her.

When he broke into the clearing, his heart skipped a beat at the sight. She was there, entangled with not one but three attackers, their shapes lurking like shadows around her. Assassins, he knew in an instant, sent to hunt her down.

With a snarl that ripped through the night, he launched himself forward, a streak of fury and muscle, his jaws parting in a merciless snap that found the leg of one wolf. He twisted with brutal force, feeling bone crunch beneath his teeth, a clean break that sent the wolf sprawling with a shriek of pain. Hunst barely registered it, already whirling toward the next, his whole body a fortress between them and Reverie.

Get back! he barked to her, his voice low and commanding, but his eyes burned with worry as they met hers for the briefest of moments. He wouldn’t let them touch her—not again.