Isabella's POV
I stared at my phone long after Mom's call ended, my fingers tracing the dark screen where her face had been moments before. The way her voice sounded different—strained but determined—bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
She's hurt. I whispered, clutching my stuffed wolf—the one Mom had given me on my fourth birthday. She'd hand-sewn special silver thread into its fur that matched the unusual silver flecks in my eyes—a trait she said came from Dad's bloodline.
Since she left, I'd been sleeping with it every night, though I made sure to hide it whenever Aurora came around. Aurora always wrinkled her nose at my "childish toys," saying a future Alpha needed to grow up faster than other kids.
The sound of the front door opening downstairs pulled me from my tho
