Then I saw it. A broken-down sedan, pathetic against the vast emptiness. Steam billowed from under the hood like a cry for help. A figure paced beside it, a whirlwind of frustration in a faded clothes and tangled hair. My wolf instincts, always on high alert, registered the vulnerability, the desperation.

I should’ve kept going. I knew better than to get involved. Strangers were trouble, their problems tangled weeds that could choke the life out of a man like me. My life was simple, brutal even, but it was mine. Besides, what did I have to offer anyone? A gruff exterior, a pack full of survival gear, and a heart that felt like a fossil.

But something – a prickling sensation at the back of my neck, the ghost of something I had once felt, something like hope – flickered within me. I found myself steering the jeep toward the stranded car, a groan escaping my throat as I hit the brakes.

"Stay," I muttered to Shadow, who watched me with a knowing tilt of his head. He was my confidant, the only one who saw the wolf beneath the skin, the wildness that churned within me.

I stepped out of the jeep, letting my indifference settle over me like a familiar cloak. I moved with a practiced ease, my body honed by years of survival. I didn’t smile, didn't offer a greeting. It wasn't cruelty; it was caution.

"Problem?" I asked, my voice rough, carrying the weight of the wind and the wilderness.