Seth swam for that elusive point where the sky met the sea. When he tired, he floated, before continuing. His biceps burned, but he powered on, eager to increase the distance between himself and the pack. He tried to figure out a plan. Where would he go? He’d grown up on this isle. Starting off somewhere new would be a challenge.

His options for sailing from the island were limited. He’d have to use one of the pack’s boats. That meant asking them for help—not an enticing prospect.

He lost track of time the farther he swam from the Isle of Stone. When he turned back, it was no longer visible. A moment of panic struck. His wolf cocked its head, closely monitoring the situation. He was in the middle of the ocean and nobody knew where he was. Fueled by stubborn wolf pride, he might have acted too rashly. For several frantic heartbeats, his mind raced over the options. One that repeated itself was to continue swimming.

Aye, that was the best option. It would be foolish to turn back now when he’d likely traveled miles from the isle. Sure, he told Ian he’d say goodbye to his packmates, but did it really matter? He’d been closest to Ian and Raina, and he’d already told Ian his plans. Why return to the place he was itching to leave? He’d already gone so far, he should keep swimming to the next isle, which had to be closer than turning back.

He could do it. He was an excellent swimmer. Humans swam the English Channel, and he was a wolf shifter with far greater endurance, abilities, and tolerance for cold. Since it was still summer, the water temperature wasn’t brutal. Armed with his new resolve, he powered on, hammering through the waves. He now felt as light as the clouds above, not so despondent about what lay ahead.

As the time stretched, the buoyant feeling disappeared. In the deep ocean, the coolness of the water pierced with a bite. His limbs grew heavy and his movements slowed. And still there was no land in view.

He took a moment to rest, floating on his back and searching the sky above. Panting with a racing heart, he had to calm the rising panic. The hovering clouds morphed and reshaped into different images. One looked like a sheep. Another a rabbit. Och, conjuring images of food. Now wasn’t the time to think of hunger, but staying afloat. When his body’s systems relaxed, he flipped back onto his stomach. He had to keep going, powering on. The alternative was to give up…

No, he wouldn’t think of it.

With his energy depleted, his movements grew erratic. His limbs, as heavy as ice, threatened to weigh him down.

When the next wave approached, he lacked the energy to adjust and sank beneath it, gulping a lungful of sea water. With frantic motions, he beat through the water. He choked, gasping for air as the salty liquid burned his throat.

His wolf clawed at him inside, desperate to take over and give them a chance. The fur would help insulate him. He initiated the shift to wolf form.

The shift only gave him a temporary respite from the cold and fatigue. Within minutes, he was back in a precarious state, hovering between sinking and swimming.

A painful burst exploded like fireworks blasting across his thigh. He howled as the saltwater intensified the sting.

He thrashed at the water, yelping, as he struggled to stay afloat, while his leg grew heavy and sluggish. A cloud above appeared to sneer at him. He’d swear it was a face—perhaps a bloody gargoyle or one of his packmates. Whatever it was enjoyed Seth’s struggle, savoring it with a sinister grin.

***

Hailey blinked, peering over the gunwale of the small power boat. No way was that what she thought she saw in the distance. It appeared to be—a wolf.

It made no sense. Why would a wolf be out here, far in the North Atlantic?

Yet, somehow, she believed it. She’d heard about the mysterious wolves who lived on the Isle of Stone, an island that seemed to have disappeared overnight. She’d been looking for it for days with her brother, Liam. That was why they’d been scouring the seas for the mysterious land after hearing reports from those who had visited it and mentioned an incident with a wolf attack.

“Go that way.” She pointed.

“What for?” Liam asked.

“It looks like there’s a wolf out there.”

He shot her a skeptical look. “Someone’s been out at sea too long. Seeing things in the waves.”

“I’m not seeing things, Liam.”

He didn’t appear convinced. “Did you drink the salt water or something?”

Ignoring him, she squinted to get a closer look. “No. Look.” She pointed again. “It’s definitely an animal. Might be a dog.”

He followed her gaze. “Shit, you’re right.” He steered the speedboat toward the animal. “How did it get out here?”

She scanned the area for land—nothing close. “If it’s a dog, maybe it fell off a boat.”

“Or was thrown,” Liam said.

“Oh, I don’t want to think of it.” As someone who focused on the welfare of animals, any stories of animal abuse ripped at her. She’d never understand how people could be so cruel.

She squinted as they approached. “No, that’s a wolf.” So many questions battled in her mind at once. She shook her head and repeated, “A wolf,” somewhat to convince herself. “The only explanation I can come up with is that it swam out here on its own.”

“For what reason?” he asked. “A wolf has no need to be out here.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Good question.”

As they closed in on the animal, excitement shot through her. She’d spent several years involved in conservation projects, spearheaded by her father, a wealthy landowner. One of the cornerstones of his vision was bringing lost species back to Scotland, such as wolves. She’d spent most of her time growing up in the U.S. where she’d been inspired by the success of the rewilding efforts at Yellowstone National Park.

The thrill vanished, replaced by horror. The wolf wasn’t swimming—it was struggling.

It sank beneath the waves.

“Oh my God—it’s drowning!”

“What—” Liam began to ask, but the answer was clear before him.

The wolf’s head bobbed up.

“Hurry!” she said.

“Hurry for what?” he asked with an exasperated tone.

“We have to save it!”

“How? We can’t bring a wolf onto the boat. It’s clearly terrified and if we agitate it—we’re in no better shape than it is.”

He was right.

“We can’t let it drown.”