The dinner was a study in political theater and barely restrained violence.
Alpha Marcus sat at the head of the table with Alpha Garrett of the Thornwood Pack—a grizzled wolf in his sixties with sharp eyes that missed nothing. They discussed territory boundaries, hunting rights, and the rising tensions with rogue wolves in the region. Civil. Professional. Boring, under different circumstances.
But I couldn't focus on their words. Not with Skyler's presence burning into my skin like a brand.
Jace, oblivious or deliberately provocative—I couldn't decide which—kept the conversation flowing across the table. He asked about my art, Seattle's gallery scene, whether I missed the Pacific Northwest during my time away. His attention was flattering, his questions genuine.
And every single one ma
