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My heart races.

I shiver at the sudden chill. My nose wrinkles at the aroma of ozone.

“Fuck.” I peer with fear through the windscreen at the sky, which has transformed in seconds to a bruised green.

I jump, when the same deer that I just rescued bursts through the tree line in front of my truck and races across the road.

When my ears painfully pop, I hiss and grip the wheel.

I know these warning signs.

A tornado is about to hit.

I have faced storms before, but I have never been this close to one.

A sudden hum starts up like a crashing waterfall.

I’m going to die.

I am surprisingly calm.

Running through the options in my head, I know that there are no good choices. I don’t have time to get out and run to find low ground. Staying inside the car is just as risky.

But trying to outrun the tornado is a death sentence.

Except, I have a pack to return to who I love.

I fucking love them.

The thought is a clear, simple fact.

And for the first time, I have an Omega who I have promised never to abandon.

I can’t leave her. I must get back to her.

I’ll probably die, but I’m still running from this tornado because I’m actually running back to my Omega.

As the sky turns pitch black, and torrential rain pounds down, I fiercely turn the key. The engine roars to life.

Even with the windshield wipers swinging furiously, I can barely see a damn thing.

Fuck it.

I know this track better than anyone.

I crank the engine and floor the accelerator.

I don’t drive straight away from the storm. Instead, I turn the truck perpendicular to it.

I grit my teeth. My shoulder muscles strain.

High winds rock the truck. Giant hail slams into the roof and the windshield, spiderwebbing cracks across the glass.

“Don’t break. Don’t break,” I chant.

The storm roars above me like a crashing jet engine.

My tires spin wildly on the mud. My side mirror shatters.