Tristan
I barely made it to my room and got the door shut before I let it show.
Then I stood with my back against the solid oak and breathed in short shallow breaths. Each one went through my side and pulled on my sore ribs, and I let it. I deserved every bit of that pain.
You could have stayed upstairs, my wolf said.
“Shut up.”
He didn’t shut up. He never does anymore. He’d been quiet for twenty years — a dull presence at the back of my skull, mostly asleep, occasionally lifting his head when someone raised their voice at me. But since the day I cut her down, he’d been awake, and he’d been loud, and he’d wanted exactly one thing.
You knew he’d been sniffing after her. You knew.
I knew. Timothy had wanted Lily since we were kids. I had hoped his obsession had truly ended when she ma
