Modric’s POV
Velvera knew something was wrong the moment she opened the door.
I had barely stepped into the cottage before her eyes moved over my face, my clenched jaw, and the hand I kept buried inside my coat pocket.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
She closed the door behind me.
“You only come here looking like that when something happened with Mary Ann.”
My wolf stirred at the sound of her name.
I removed my coat and placed it over the back of a chair. The ring remained inside my pocket, its hard edge pressing against my palm through the fabric.
Velvera watched the movement.
“Did she accuse you of something?”
“No.”
“Did you argue?”
“Yes.”
Her expression sharpened with interest.
“About what?”
I walked toward the fireplace.
The cottage was warm, but the cold from the road rem
