The Alpha quarters were silent in a way Mira hated.
Stone walls absorbed sound. Thick doors sealed it out. Even the distant noise of the fortress-like boots, voices, steel—felt muted, as if the mountain itself was watching and waiting.
Mira stood near the center of the room, arms folded tight across her chest. Her pulse refused to slow. Every breath felt too shallow, too fast.
Across from her, Ryker stood near the window, his back to her, shoulders rigid.
Neither of them spoke.
The bond did enough talking on its own.
It pulled.
Not gently. Not patiently.
It tugged at Mira’s chest like an invisible hook, warm and insistent, tightening each time Ryker shifted or breathed too deeply. Her wolf paced in circles inside her mind, restless and panicked.
Too close, her instincts screamed.
