SLOANE
Adrian came back by the time I was already in his study.
The room smelled like old paper, leather, and pinewood polish. It was a serious room. Heavy desk. Dark shelves. Thick books I knew were pack laws and human laws mixed together. Everything in this house felt like control. Like order. Like nothing ever went wrong here.
I leaned against the wall with my arms crossed.
“Where did you go?” I asked.
His jaw tightened before he even spoke. That alone told me everything.
“Pack duties,” he said.
Short. Flat. Final.
I tilted my head to the side slowly. “Why do I have a feeling that you’re lying to me?”
His shoulders stiffened. Not much—just enough that only someone paying close attention would notice.
He didn’t answer my question.
Instead, he asked, “What do you want to do?”
