KLAUS’S POV
I told myself it was just about the kid. That was the excuse I kept repeating like a damn mantra every time I caught myself thinking about Gina or asking Martha to swing by and check in on them.
It wasn’t for Gina. It was for Bernard. The boy’s sick. Vulnerable. I’m Alpha. I look out for my people—end of story. But the story never seems to end where I want it to.
I had just finished a long, dragging council meeting—some land dispute nonsense that two of the farmers couldn’t settle on their own—and I was heading back toward the pack house, hoping to get at least a moment of quiet before Laila started talking about floral arrangements again.
My head was pounding. Then I heard them. Three women by the training grounds, their backs to me, voices low but not low enough.
“Did yo
