Savage Sanctuary: a Dire Wolves Mission (The Devil's Dires book 2)
““Motherfucker.” Levi gripped the wheel tighter as he once again felt the tires slide into a rut. Or maybe a hole. Or a door to hell. How the devil did these people drive on this thing?
After another harrowing twenty minutes attempting to navigate his Suburban through trees growing way too close to where he needed his truck to fit, he managed to drive out of the death woods and onto what looked like a field. Covered in ice, of course.
“Wonderful.” Gritting his teeth, he drove on at a speed barely above tortoise. His truck still slipped and skidded, even fishtailing at one point. Eventually, after much cursing, tugging, and downright tantrum-throwing, he managed to slide somewhat close to the other cars parked on the ice. Not close enough to be considered in an actual parking space, but enough that he wasn’t driving another fucking inch.
When his truck drew to a stop, he threw the Suburban into park and let out the breath he’d been holding for the last two hours.
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