A week had passed in a golden blur of quiet triumphs and steady healing.
Every morning had begun with a visit to Liz, watching in awe as her color returned, her strength doubled, and her lycan’s energy blossomed into a steady, radiant warmth. Between check-ins at the cottage and spending time down at the pack school—where the children were thriving, their laughter filling the courtyards as they caught up on months of delayed studies—the pack felt more peaceful than it had in a long time.
Except for my husband.
Demetrius was acting completely wrong today, and it was driving me up the wall.
It started before dawn. I had woken up to the cold air of an empty bed, catching a glimpse of his tall silhouette slipping quietly out the chamber doors while the sky was still pitch black. When I cal
