ROSETTE’S POV
I didn’t leave my penthouse for two days.
The first day, I told myself I was being strategic. Letting the scandal die down. Giving the gossip vultures time to find fresh carrion. Luther handled the office, fielded the calls, made excuses I didn’t bother to learn.
I stayed in bed with the curtains drawn and pretended I was fine.
I wasn’t fine.
My wolf was wounded in a way I couldn’t name, curled up in the back of my mind and whimpering like a kicked dog.
She wouldn’t stop making these pitiful sounds, these low keening cries that seemed to come from nowhere. Every time I tried to push her down, tried to silence her, she’d just whimper louder.
Why does this hurt so much?
He wasn’t my mate. He wasn’t my anything.
He was just a man I’d been stupid enough to let close, a m
