Charles
I take him in the second he steps forward.
Average height, maybe five foot eleven, lean build that thinks a gym membership makes a man dangerous. Brown hair cut short, sharp blue eyes that scan me like he is trying to measure his chances. Black suit, white shirt, polished shoes. He looks like a man who is used to walking into rooms and being tolerated.
My wolf snarls low in my chest.
So this is Josh.
He smells wrong. Not just unfamiliar. Possessive without the right to be. Entitled. My jaw tightens as instinct rises, hot and territorial.
His eyes flick from Molly to me, lingering just a second too long. Assessing. Calculating. He does not like what he sees.
Good.
“What are you doing here?” Molly asks, her voice sharp now, all softness burned away.
Josh scoffs, stepping cl
