Fading Tracks

Vance

“God, Stella, where are you?” I murmur.

I’m driving carefully along the route that Stella would have taken, my knuckles white on the steering wheel as I peer through the blinding snowstorm. Panic tightens my chest with each passing moment. She should have been back hours ago, and the storm has only worsened as the time has passed.

“She had to have taken this route,” my wolf explains. “She’s