Lane's POV
Lane slowly lowered her quill, her gaze dropping to where Ethan and Maris’s fingers were tightly intertwined. A deep, cold wave of disgust washed through her at the sheer shamelessness of the display, before she finally lifted her eyes to evaluate the woman standing in her sanctuary.
Last night, through the hazy distortion of the spiritual vision, Lane hadn’t been able to see her clearly. Now, in the crisp morning light, Maris Duffy stood fully exposed.
Her half-shifted traits were proudly on display; a pair of coarse, dark wolf ears twitched atop her head, and a thick tail brushed against her calves, the fur a mottled, messy blend of brown and gray.
A small, jagged scar cut through the skin just under her lower lip—not large, but prominent enough to serve as a self-procla
