"We need to talk," Dominic said, his voice level. "In the study."
Liam’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, following us into the room. He sank into one of the leather armchairs, the picture of casual insolence.
"So," he began, before we could even start. "Her dad is a bit of a traditionalist. But he was... civil. I think he was impressed I could eat garlic bread without bursting into flames. It was a real icebreaker."
"Liam, this isn't a joke," I said, my patience wearing thin. "We know who her father is. We know about the history between our packs."
"Then you should also know it's history!" he shot back, leaning forward. "It's been twelve years, Mom! Twelve years of peace! Are you ever going to let it go? You're always telling me that I can't let the past define me, but that's exactly wha
