Aria's POV
After work, I met Damian at Luciano's—an upscale Italian place downtown with dim lighting and private booths.
He was already waiting when I arrived, his dark eyes tracking my movement across the restaurant with that intensity that always made my pulse quicken.
"You're late," he said as I slid into the booth across from him. No accusation in his tone. Just stating a fact.
"Traffic was hell." I accepted the wine menu from our server with a polite smile, waiting until we were alone before meeting his gaze. "What did you want to discuss?"
His jaw tightened, barely noticeable. "I'm heading to the northern territories tomorrow morning. Border dispute between neighboring Packs. I'll be gone about a week."
"Okay." I nodded, scanning the wine list. "Thanks for letting
