My First Book Since 2019: Akiak – Out in 72 Hours

It’s been five years since my last book, The Pigeon Whisperer, was published—five years of stories waiting to be told. And now, finally, one of them is ready.

In just 72 hours, Akiak—a speculative thriller about extinction, survival, and the fight to be heard—will be available for everyone to read.

It begins with a missing wolf.

A glass display case at the Akiak Museum—empty.

A biologist named Avery, obsessed with saving the last of the red wolves.

A translation device, bridging the gap between human and animal.

And a conspiracy so vast, it threatens not just the wolves—but the balance of the wild itself.

Here’s an exclusive excerpt!

It was midnight on the tundra, the last night of the universe. Vincent, the detective wolf, broke the news to me. My tears disappeared in the snow beneath my feet. Unlike me, Vincent stood strong. I was a small red wolf, an orphan in the land of the gray. Like the colors of night itself, Vincent’s gray silhouette stood in contrast with the orange gradients of dawn.

The news split the moon in half and shredded the heart like massive jaws shred meat. The moon fell to the ground in sparkling shards of divine wakefulness.

There was no place in the vicinity for an outcast like me. My four paws swiftly broke the speed of light and the universe, defying physics and my very own identity. Was I Canis rufus on trial, faced with the grand question of fight or flight? My agile body glided, running away from what I dreaded most—exile!

She was the only reason I was there—the only reason I intruded on the land of the gray wolf. I never thought they’d have mercy on me. She was gone.

Eyes glowed in the semi-darkness; howls of agony resounded around me. The sound of a goodbye song—goodbye to all. Goodbye to Cinnamon?

To make sense of Vincent’s words was impossible. I could not believe it, the story of our epic love—gone. The story of the fizzy cinnamon juice, the scent, her paws, the smooth music at the jazz bar. The angelic sound of her voice, her melodies. It had been surreal, a seamless journey of the night, treading under the moon. A night of many kisses—an epic love that began prehistory.

We had become one soul before we were ever born. But the times of our lives were already over, shortened by cries of agony.

I couldn’t sing; Vincent’s words suffocated me. The ground was ice—my paws scratched the surface looking for mice. The moon, ice. Vice, birthing vice. Was I hunting for food or fools?

Vincent caught up to me, his voice sharp, piercing deep.

“Run,” he said. The earth vibrated underneath me, ice-breaking tremors.

Across the tundra, a shadowy curtain revealed all the other wolves gathered like beasts, turning real wolves into predators and predators into wolves. Where would be my home? The wolves’ eyes sparked like yellow flames; a stronger beam emerged. I was afraid to look up and see them, as if they were hallucinations.

Vincent spoke. “Your excuses are over. The reason you were here is gone. What else do you have to say?”

“I have no place to go . . . if I go . . .”

Vincent interrupted me with a vicious howl.

“There’s no place for a Rufus in the land of the Lupus. The gray wolves will torment you until you die. Your red fur will be smudged, and your torn appearance will serve as a lesson to others like you. I won’t be able to help you; no one will.”

Vincent winked, giving the wolves a sign to attack me.