Sylvia's POV
I pulled into the Frostline Enterprises lot running on zero sleep and about three sips of cold coffee. My limbs felt heavy, like I was dragging a wet blanket over concrete.
Even the concealer I’d slapped on this morning was giving up the fight—my face still looked like I’d spent the night in a boxing match with my own thoughts. Which, to be fair, wasn’t far off.
As an Alpha forced to suppress my true nature for three years, I'd become an expert at masking my emotions—but today, those skills were being tested to their limits.
And then I saw him.
Zane Thorne.
Leaning against the front steps like he belonged there, dressed like a damn magazine ad and holding—of all things—a giant bouquet of red roses.
The kind you bring to a proposal. Or a funeral. Hard to
