August took one look at the situation and rushed inside, his sharp eyes flicking to Michael with suspicion. “What’s going on?”
“I need to sit down,” I muttered.
I walked shakily to my desk, righted the chair I had knocked over earlier, and sank into it heavily. Pressing both hands over my face, I forced myself to breathe.
Somewhere deep inside me, my wolf howled.
I struggled to even understand what I was feeling right now. Was it anger? Grief? Betrayal? Maybe a bit of all of it.
To think that the woman I had considered my mother for so long could try to kill my wife—
“Sir,” August said, his concern growing.
“It’s my fault,” Michael said. His voice was tight with guilt. “I should have come forward as soon as I knew.”
“You are not to blame for any of this,” I
