Though Hunter and Celeste had made up and he stood firm by her side, Celesteh moved through the packhouse like a ghost, present, efficient, respected, but unreachable. The kind of silence that made even Beta Lisa hesitate before cracking a joke. The kind that made warriors straighten up just a little faster when she passed.
Hunter watched her from the training field, arms folded across his chest, brow furrowed like he could glare the emotional distance between them into submission.
“She’s not gonna magically forgive you if you stare hard enough,” Logan muttered, tossing him a towel.
“I’m not waiting for magic,” Hunter replied, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I’m waiting for a window.”
“She’s got reinforced titanium shutters right now,” Logan said. “You might wanna call in an airstrike
