Chloe’s pov
Nash stood in the center of the living room, his broad frame hunched, his hands hanging limp at his sides. He looked hollowed out. The powerful, commanding Alpha of the Red Moon Pack—the warrior who had led armies and survived ten lashes on the border ridge—was completely crushed under the weight of his own unforgivable mistakes.
His dark eyes were bloodshot, streaked with tears, looking up at me with an agonizing, silent defeat that cut straight to the bone.
He didn't argue. He didn't try to step past me or demand to see our daughter again.
"I'm sorry, Chloe," Nash rasped, his voice breaking into a raw, ruined whisper that shook the dim room. "I won't force you. I won't make her afraid in her own home."
I stood rigid against the timber doorframe, my palm resting flat over
