The Thorn Estate smelled like stone and gun oil.
I woke tangled in sheets softer than anything I had ever touched at home, in a room the size of my old pack hall's dining area.
Gray light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, washing the mountains in cold silver and for one heartbeat, I forgot where I was.
Then it all came crashing back.
Keal's face.
The rejection.
Logan's hand closing around mine like a verdict.
I sat up too fast, chest tightening.
The door across the suite stood open, and Logan's voice drifted through it, low and clipped, giving orders to someone I couldn't see.
"Double the northern patrol."
A pause.
"Perimeter breach reports are unacceptable."
Another pause.
"Fix it."
The conversation ended as abruptly as it had begun.
A knock rattled the bedroom
