The heavy, iron-bound door of the cottage groaned on its hinges as the pack’s lead healer, a woman whose face was etched with the weariness of a thousand tragedies, stepped out into the biting morning air.
Liam also followed behind her onto the porch, his frame silhouetted against the dim interior light.
His sapphire eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with a raw, red soreness that spoke of a night spent in the deepest circle of hell.
He stood there, the Commander of the Vanguard, the wolf who had faced rogue armies without flinching, and he looked entirely fragile.
“Thank you, Sylvia” Liam rasped, his voice sounding like it had been dragged over broken glass.
He reached out, his hand trembling as he gripped the porch railing for support. “Please... remember what you promised.
This stays
