CARDAN MONTESSORI
He forgets who I am!
The first thing I noticed when I rode through the gate was the silence.
It was not the usual kind that came with dawn or exhaustion — this was the type of silence that hummed beneath the surface, the kind that carried secrets and guilt.
Wolves moved about their duties with strange precision. Eyes darted away when I met them. Heads bowed too quickly. Voices dropped mid-conversation.
My wolves. My pack.
And yet… something had changed.
I could smell it.
Deception has its own scent.
Still, I kept my expression steady, the mask of a returning Alpha who was simply glad to be home.
The courtyard was cleaner than usual, the banners freshly hung, and guards lined up neatly along the path. Overdone. Someone was trying too hard to impress me.
Then I
