Lucia
The farmhouse door clicked shut, the sound a final, definitive barrier. Ragnar was on the other side, lost to the cold night, but the chaotic energy of his presence still clung to her, a phantom weight on her skin.
The world, which had narrowed to the space between their bodies, rushed back in with a dizzying roar.
The racket of the city was gone, but the house had its own life.
The air smelled of woodsmoke, drying herbs, and the complex, earthy scent of the pack.
From a large central room, the low murmur of conversation and the crackle of a fire could be heard. It should have felt cozy, but to Lucia, it felt like the walls were closing in.
She was numb, a trembling puppet being guided by Briar’s gentle but insistent hands. Miren walked ahead, her back ramrod straight, leadi
