The pack house had gone quiet, but the tension still crackled like lightning before a storm. Naida slipped away from the side room after their frantic wall f**k, legs shaky, Modric’s c*m still slick between her thighs. She needed air. Needed space to think about leaving before the challenge tore his life apart.
Modric didn’t let her get far.
His hand closed around her wrist in the shadowed hallway, grip firm but not bruising. “No more running tonight, Naida.”
She tried to pull away. “Modric, the pack is right. If you lose that challenge because of me—”
He yanked her back against his chest, storm-gray eyes blazing with something deeper than calm now. “I refuse to let you go. Not for the pack. Not for your father. Not even for you.” His voice dropped to a rough growl. “You’re mine. And I
