Nash’s pov
My heart slammed against my ribs as Chloe stepped out from the back storeroom, her dark hair pinned up, her eyes wide with shock as they landed on me.
Six years of cold hell vanished in an instant.
Before I could speak her name, the curtain rustled again. A broad-shouldered warrior stepped into the shop, wiping his calloused hands on a grease-stained cloth. He wore a plain linen work shirt, his dark hair messy, the silver-bound wolf fang necklace hanging flat against his chest.
Ted.
Ted froze the second his golden eyes locked onto mine. The rag slipped from his fingers, hitting the floorboards without a sound.
A dark, thunderous rage exploded in my chest, blinding and absolute. The six years of bitter agony, the cold nights in an empty bed, the manic blood fever tearing at
