There was one night in particular that stood out—the last time I’d truly felt connected to my wolf. I remember getting violently sick after a dinner party at my home, where David and Amanda had been guests. It was possible that one of them had slipped something into my meal.
Or perhaps David had bribed someone to do it, just as he’d paid the barista to poison my coffee a few days ago.
The memory of that night sent a chill through me. I’d been so sick afterward, barely able to get out of bed for days. My weakened state had masked the gradual fading of my wolf, so it never occurred to me then that the illness might be connected. But now, it felt all too obvious.
I glanced at Bethany as she moved around the kitchen. She navigated the space instinctively, putting together delicious-looking
