Modric’s POV
“The necklace was becoming heavy.”
Mary Ann stepped around me before I could respond.
I caught her wrist.
She stopped, but she did not turn immediately.
The bond reacted to the contact, sending warmth through my palm and up my arm. Her wolf stirred, then withdrew as though even she had learned not to trust moments of closeness.
I released Mary Ann before she could accuse me of controlling her again.
“That is not an answer,” I said.
She looked down at the place where my hand had been, then lifted her eyes to mine.
“It is the answer I chose to give.”
The empty space at her throat seemed brighter than the silver pendant ever had.
Mary Ann had worn the Volkov symbol every day since the wedding. Through council arguments, poisoning, the bridge collapse, and every night I
