The camp was buzzing with life, the newly transformed werewolves mingling as their bodies shifted back to human form. Their faces were still flush with the adrenaline of the transformation, making it easy for Chase and his group to blend in. Torn clothes clung to their bodies, barely holding together, a necessary sacrifice to avoid suspicion. The drug they had taken earlier was in full effect—though they smelled like themselves, to the werewolves, they reeked of their kind.
Kellie, her hourglass figure barely concealed by the ragged cloth, moved with effortless grace, her emerald eyes catching every detail around her, though her expression remained cool and detached. Beside her, Chase's dark eyes swept over the camp, his muscles tense beneath his torn shirt. Belinda, by contrast, walked with a casual, almost playful bounce in her step, her honey-blonde hair catching the dim campfire light.
