Outside the front windows, the faint shimmer of another car pulls my attention. It’s sleek, black, unmarked, but something about the air around it screams controlled power — deliberate, not chaotic. My wolf growls low in my chest.
Through the door, a figure steps forward. She’s tall, lean, with dark hair tied back, and her eyes… my wolf recognizes her immediately. I know that look — the one of someone who has survived Spencer’s wrath, someone who’s been hunted and yet has chosen to stand.
“She’s one of them.” I murmur, barely audible.
Asher stiffens beside me. “Then she’s exactly where she needs to be.”
The girl’s gaze sweeps the room, finally landing on me. There’s recognition, relief, and determination all mingled into a single look. My pulse accelerates. She steps inside, slow, deli
