HANNAH
I sat beside my father, my mother on his other side. His hand rested in mine, thin and warm, confirming over and over that he was here, truly here. I needed that contact to convince myself this wasn’t just another dream.
I studied his face, lined and worn, thinner than I remembered. His lips moved as he spoke to my mother, my mates, and the Alpha, but I wasn’t listening. Not yet.
My thoughts drifted. I imagined all the places he had been, the horrors he had endured, all for nothing.
Because of Dawson.
It was always Dawson and Asher. Every thread of suffering wove back to them.
My fingers traced over my father’s hand, once strong and steady, now hard and veiny, little more than skin and bone. Rage simmered beneath my skin. He had been forced to live like this, to scrape by in t
